<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>endgame by poeticlump</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25967167">endgame</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticlump/pseuds/poeticlump'>poeticlump</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunter X Hunter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>CEO Killua, Eventual Alluka/Zushi, Eventual Leorio/Kurapika, Hero Gon, Knuckle &amp; Zushi's Goofball Design Team, M/M, Nen (Hunter X Hunter), Video Game Developer AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:40:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25967167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticlump/pseuds/poeticlump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Killua just wanted to eat choco-robos and design video games in solitude, but the character reference for the new video game hit, Gon Freecss, hunter extraordinaire and hero of the city—was stepping on the back of his sneakers wherever he turned. Not to mention the fact that Killua was accidentally electrocuting everyone at work.</p><p>(OR video game design AU in which Gon is the centerpiece for a new video game and he accidentally unlocks Killua’s Nen. And suddenly, Killua’s not just designing a game, but living one.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>135</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>172</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. no feelings involved, not even a little</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the bop: <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/1Qzsjvia8a49GKbpRNFDR6?si=ZGG8tDIkRaqd92QlGGDncQ">Only Fools Fall in Love - Life of Dillon</a>.</p><p>the sketch: <a href="https://ibb.co/H7hy2rW">gon character sheet</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>K</strong>illua spent his Tuesday morning watching the new recruit, Zushi, quake in his corduroys. A long, glossy table stretched between them, lined with team members that could be working on the kid’s project within the hour.</p><p>He kicked back in his chair and inhaled some hot chocolate, nodding to Leorio as he plopped down beside him. The lanky 30-something was head of the design team and an embodiment of suits, grumbles, and leather folders.</p><p>But most importantly, he was Killua’s favorite person to mess with. </p><p>“Sup, old man,” Killua greeted, nose still deep in his mug.</p><p>Narrowed eyes glanced over him. “Not today, punk. Not today.”</p><p>Killua snorted. “So soon?”</p><p>Leorio responded simply, “I need coffee before even looking at your snarky kid face.” He flipped open Zushi’s presentation packet and itched at his nose.</p><p>“All right then, let’s start this up,” Zushi called from the podium up front. He did a quick scan of the room to make sure everyone was settled in, then clicked the slideshow to life. Knuckle—his certified goofball sidekick—offered enthusiastic thumbs up from the sidelines.</p><p>“Hey everyone. Most of you know me way too well, but I’m Zushi, and after 6 months working and learning here, I’ve put together my very first game proposal,” he declared. His excited smile was up and raring, starting to overpower the nerves.</p><p>“So—I’ll dive right into the main point. With the recent surge in hero movies, comics, books, and every other form of media, really, I thought it was only fitting to pitch this company’s very first,” he clicked to a new slide and flung one arm out to the screen, “hero video game.”</p><p>Killua’s head dipped to the side, not <em> not </em>interested.</p><p>“The real-world hero on everyone’s radar right now is none other than the famous hunter, Gon Freecss,” he continued, motioning to the screen where a young man waved at the camera, hanging from the side of the World Tree. “He’s all anyone can talk about. The Hunter Association, the news—his name is on the lips of every possible demographic. Adults rely on him, grandparents respect him, children <em> idolize </em>him.”</p><p>He clicked through news articles with heroic headlines slapped across the top, adorned with pictures of Gon taking down corrupt leaders, rescuing locals, regrouping animal sanctuaries. Almost every picture was illuminated by the same vibrant smile.</p><p>Killua’s chest and neck warmed. He set down the hot chocolate, pulling idly at his collar.</p><p>Zushi stopped the slideshow to make more points, but his words were a jumble of nonsense outside the small fraction of reality that Killua inhabited. Everything seemed to fade and blur beneath the grin that stretched across Gon’s face, glowing out at him from across the room.</p><p>The picture depicted Gon having just stepped off a ship, an arm reaching to run fingers through dark spikes, looking out into a forested island. Zushi had apparently decided to be an overachiever today and Killua was not a fan; the photo quality was so intense that he could see every fucking freckle, every bead of sweat and ocean spray that dripped down muscled arms.</p><p>His heart stuttered. His hand slapped to his chest in reflex.</p><p>What was <em> wrong </em>with him today?</p><p>“—and he’s agreed to give us the rights to make a whole series depicting him as the main character. We can include all his adventures, and I mean all of them—stories no one has even <em> heard </em> before. We have complete access to exclusives on his life and history.”</p><p>Enthusiasm rippled through the room, whispers shooting between team members, one small squeal. And while Killua knew he should be thrilled too, while he knew that this was, quite frankly, a brilliant proposal—he wanted to tear down that projector screen with his bare hands.</p><p>“This company made a quick jump to popularity in the last few years, but a game with this beloved of a public figure and this level of exclusivity could spike us to the very top,” Zushi continued, fully animated. His energy was flooding the room.</p><p>Meanwhile, Gon’s striking face stared out at Killua, taunting him. He fiddled with the follow-along papers on the table. This had to be almost finished. How many more points could the kid make, anyway?</p><p>“Plenty. It’s only been ten minutes,” Leorio answered, then grumbled to himself, “Millenials and their attention spans, I swear.”</p><p>Killua shot him an unenthused look. A blank corner of the room became his refuge, and he sipped his hot chocolate for extra comfort. Instead of Gon’s sharp jawline and tanned dimples, he’d fill his mind with thoughts of his favorite things . . . like Alluka, choco-robos, his new comics, office aesthetic Pinterest tabs, the badass games he’s coding, new and fresh ideas—Gon Freecss.</p><p>“Fuckin—” he cursed and clamped his mouth shut. But it didn’t slip past Leorio, who looked at him like he was a proper lunatic.</p><p>“The hell are you cursing at, kid?” he whispered. “You realize this is genius work going on right now, right?”</p><p>“I know, I know, it’s fucking fantastic,” Killua whispered back hotly.</p><p>“. . . Oh, then what’s your deal?”</p><p>“His, it’s just,” he wheezed a little, faltering and motioning to the screen, “his <em> face </em>.”</p><p>This left Leorio stupefied. “His <em> face </em>? Is he not pretty enough for you, shallow bastard? You hired him.”</p><p>Killua ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “<em> Not Zushi,” </em> he hissed.</p><p>But in the time they spent arguing, both men missed Zushi’s toothy smile as he clicked the presentation slides to an end. They missed the flicker of his eyes to the doorway, the slight bounce in his toes that insinuated a twist. They didn’t, however, miss his last four words:</p><p>“Oh, and he’s here.”</p><p>Blue eyes snapped to the front of the room. Leorio turned his head so hard his glasses flew into the lady next to him.</p><p>Then the door swung open and none other than Gon fucking Freecss waltzed in beside Zushi.</p><p>The space between Killua and the podium that Gon slapped his hands and forearms on, was suddenly too vast. But at the same time, far, far too close. Too far to tell if freckles splayed across Gon’s cheeks, but close enough to feel his warm and wild energy raise every defense Killua ever wielded.</p><p>“Hey everyone!” the man grinned out at them, “I’m Gon, and if you’d all be so kind as to accept this proposal, I’ll be working with you super soon on this project.”</p><p>The team, having essentially died of a group seizure, just stared at the guy who was smiling at them like a cute and explicitly handsome puppy. But after ten whole seconds of silence, Gon’s expression began to drop into awkwardness.</p><p>At that, a few team members shook off their nerves enough to muster up some questions for the two men. Zushi did the majority of the answering, leaving Gon to scan the room.</p><p>Killua’s leg uncrossed and fell as Gon’s gaze reached him. And just—stopped there. He wasn’t sure if it was insanity taking the reins, but the hunter’s lips seemed to perk in the corners, dimples pressing into his cheeks.</p><p>He was torn away by a “hey, <em> hey </em>” not-so-subtly whispered from the corner of Leorio’s mouth.</p><p>“What.”</p><p>“I think that hunter kid is checking me out,” Leorio started warily. “Which I mean, I get it—but how do I emphasize my straightness?”</p><p>His eyes slanted at the suit-laden disaster-adult beside him. “He’s probably just counting your wrinkles. Your straightness is a beacon.”</p><p>Before Leorio could strangle him, Gon’s voice cut through the room, “So I think that pretty much concludes this shindig. I’m hype to come around and get to know you all today!”</p><p>He bowed, with one last little curious look at Killua.</p><p>When Leorio choked, “<em> See? </em>Did you see that?” Killua wanted—with all of his being—to smack him across the back of the head with one of those leather folders.</p><p>But, it was . . . maybe, Gon had to know he’s the CEO, right? Right. Of course you’d smile at the CEO if you wanted a video game about you to be approved, he reasoned, mentally slapping himself to reality.</p><p>The rest of the team seemed to be mentally slapping themselves as well, before finally shuffling their files and folders, scuttling off to their usual schedules. Killua, drenched in confusion and and a heavy dose of self-awareness, watched all the chairs push out and in before even beginning to gather himself.</p><p>He leaned to peer around Leorio’s in-the-way body, to catch one last glimpse of that brilliant smile as Gon left the room, talking animatedly with Zushi.</p><p>The proposal was brilliant. People would pitch up tents outside game stores for days. Gameplay footage would run rampant through the Twitch and YouTube communities. His company would be thrust into the spotlight. Merch, seasonal content—god, he could do anything with this. Zushi, the buzzcut dork, basically skipped into work today and slapped millions of dollars onto Killua’s open palms.</p><p>These were all good things. But still, Killua felt short of breath. That last glance Gon gave him replayed on a loop in the thin air in front of him.</p><p>There had to be some sort of catch to this whole thing. How did Zushi know this guy, anyway? Wasn’t he, like, famous? Curiosity flooded him, and he leaned further to follow Gon’s frame down the hallway, chair wobbling dangerously.</p><p>“Whoa, kid!” Leorio’s arm shot out to steady and drag an unflustered Killua back to safety. “What the hell is up with you today? You’re acting unhinged.”</p><p>“Just stretching my back,” he replied curtly. The white-haired man brushed off his slacks and opted to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was afoot. He went on slyly, “thanks for the quick-save though. For an ancient artifact you have pretty decent reflexes.”</p><p>He swiped his phone from the table to slip it into his pocket—</p><p>Leorio swatted the phone from his hand, eyes twitching. “I’m one of the youngest bachelors in this office! Just because you’re a damn baby boss doesn’t make everybody else—”</p><p>“I emailed you yesterday that if you mentioned Boss Baby and/or the uncalled-for sequels one more time, I would literally fire you.”</p><p>Leorio squinted at him and leaned in, one hand flat on the table. “I said baby boss. <em> Loophole </em>, punk. And it’s an excellent piece of cinema.”</p><p>Killua’s phone gave a vaguely distressed beeping from the floor, so he reclaimed it and flapped a dismissive hand at the door. “I’m adding that whole sentence to the fire-upon-hearing list. Now buzz off, I’ve gotta answer this.”</p><p>Leorio begrudgingly stalked off, leaving Killua to catch up on his texts before following suit. He sidled along the glass walls, bangs-deep in his phone.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> Can’t make it today. Eat double the pizza slices in memory of me (do not just eat chocolate for dinner).</p>
  <p><b>Killu:</b> Me? Chocolate? For dinner, the most important meal of the day?</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> I’m going to say this again because I feel like you didn’t hear me: do noT just eat chocolate for dinner.</p>
  <p><b>Killu:</b> Fite me. Can’t hear a text message.</p>
  <p><b>Killu:</b> If you want my night to be void of joy, you have to rip it from my cold hungry hands.</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> I would 100% be ripping your joy away if I wasn’t buried in work, breathing through a bendy straw. No joy for you.</p>
  <p><b>Killu:</b> 🙅 Reverse Marie Kondo. </p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> XD Leave my beloved Marie out of this, you savage. This is about you and diabetes.</p>
  <p><b>Killu:</b> Marie thinks I should throw you out with my old rollerblades.</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> She would never. Wait you used to rollerblade?</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> Without me??</p>
  <p>
    <b>Killu:</b>
  </p>
  <p><b>Killu:</b> Nod once for choco-robos, nod twice for chocolate bunnies.</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> God damnit Killua.</p>
  <p><b>Killu:</b> Just keeping it seasonal.</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> Aashfgsdhgf I’m calling your sister. Alluka isn’t too busy to bike over and square up.</p>
  <p><b>Killu:</b> Lol no no I’ll be good. Don’t tell on m</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Killua was mid-snort as he full body collided into someone, finding his head tucked rather intimately into the crook of their neck. He got a deep whiff of Hot Dude and his own shame before flinging himself backwards.</p><p>“Shit, dude, sorry—”</p><p>“No worries, it's f—I mean, wow, hi. Are you okay?”</p><p>As he blinked away the dizziness, Killua found himself face-to-face with none other than the famous hunter. Right in front of him, in all his 20/20 high-quality glory—freckles, dimples and all. He exuded a mixture of bashfulness and dogged confidence, heavy in the air like a magnetic field.</p><p>“Wasn’t prepared for the surprise hug. I’m usually a lot better at them, I promise,” Gon laughed with a little wink.</p><p>Killua watched Zushi’s spirit float into the ceiling tiles beside Gon; the kid was clearly not expecting the subject of his chances at a bright future to flirt with his boss. Killua’s own spirit was about to follow suit, but he metaphorically snatched that mofo back into his body. </p><p>“I wasn’t trying to—I wasn’t paying attention, it’s my bad,” he responded, “No worries.” He swallowed and gave his best casual, dude-in-charge, not-at-all-flustered look.</p><p>“No worries back at ya,” Gon grinned, bright enough to knock Killua off his toes. It took every ounce of his dignity to remain firmly attached to the ground. “I don’t think we’ve officially met yet! I’m Gon, Gon Freecss.” He offered a hand, “You were in the meeting, right?”</p><p>Zushi raised his eyebrows at the hunter, because he knew that he knew Killua was in the meeting. He literally told him Killua would be in the meeting. And then they talked about Killua right after the meeting (if he looked impressed/convinced/interested at all).</p><p>Killua’s hand met Gon’s, finding his head utterly empty while in the bright man’s center of gravity. He had to pull himself together. He was the CEO of this company. He was cool, calculated, and he <em> ran this shit </em> . So he would <em> speak words, damn it. </em></p><p>“Yeah, hey. I’m Killua Zoldyck. I run this shit.”</p><p>Fuckin—<em> not those words.  </em></p><p>But then Gon laughed and said, “I guess you’re the right guy to be hugging then, huh?”</p><p>Killua swallowed the flush before it could crawl into his cheeks, and responded, “Probably. Feel free to start sucking up to me.”</p><p>Gon paused for a second, but quickly recovered with an “On it” and a two-fingered salute. “But before I get to that, I should probably—”</p><p>“Let Zushi show you around?” Killua cut in. A valiant effort to escape.</p><p>“For sure,” Gon nodded, “. . . And then maybe convince you to have lunch with us, and then maybe convince you to be my boss.” He went right in for the kill, lightheartedly and with a brilliant smile. </p><p>Killua shrugged and took a few steps backward, beginning his departure. “Fine. If your life doesn’t suck too hard to make a good game, you can buy me pizza.”</p><p>What? He would what?</p><p>Gon positively beamed, apparently a lover of challenges. “Don’t you worry, I’ve been on so many wild adventures you’ll be choking on your cheese.”</p><p>Killua took a few more steps back. “And if I choke, who’s gonna make your game, hah?”</p><p>The ridiculously handsome guy in the green sweater laughed again. “You’ll make it out alive. I’m a hero, y’know,” he leaned forward and grinned, “I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”</p><p>Forget cheese. Killua was choking on air.</p><p>He couldn’t suppress his emotions much longer, not like usual, not with Gon looking at him like he was the most interesting person he’d laid eyes on in the last century. So he gulped and shook his head, letting loose a small smile. </p><p>“Yeah yeah, just go—do whatever crap you have to do today.” He gave a small, casual wave. “See ya, Freecss.”</p><p>Gon waved with both arms as he walked backward beside a flustered Zushi, who was all but dragging him down the hallway. “Bye Killua!”</p><p>His cheeks warmed. <em> Killua </em>. Who did he think he was talking to, a friend from school? He was the damn president of the company. </p><p>But . . . to be honest, he hadn’t heard anyone say his name in a while. And the way it fell from Gon’s lips felt refreshing. Almost like—</p><p>No. Just no. Killua shook the thoughts from his head and made his way to his office. He dropped into his chair and threw his phone to the table. It was time to stop wheezing and brace himself for the day ahead.</p><p>Killua stretched out his arms, cracking his knuckles, preparing to read the comments on the company’s anonymous message board to see what the other employees thought of the hero game. Instead, he found his gaze resting on a black envelope, tucked between his keyboard and monitor. </p><p>Curious, he picked it up and checked for the sender. But this envelope was . . . completely blank. He flipped it over a couple times.</p><p>His brows pulled together. Mail was usually delivered by his secretary, decorated with cute sticky notes describing who the sender was so Killua had context. But nope, nothing. </p><p>Annoyed at the shadiness of it all, he ripped it open. Within was a single piece of paper. Printed on it in basic typewriter-format was:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>      I strongly advise you to decline the proposal. If you continue, expect consequences.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Killua’s face hardened. What the actual fuck. The meeting had only been 30 minutes ago, so this meant it had to have been . . . someone in the room? Someone who knew Zushi or Gon? It wasn’t exactly public knowledge yet, just an idea shared with a room of people who would all benefit from it. </p><p>And he wasn’t about to reject it for no reason. So he dropped the letter into his drawer and slammed it shut. </p><p>Consequences. Seeing as Killua’s whole life was a consequence, he wasn’t exactly shivering in his Gucci loafers.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yay new fic time! (sorry to my WIPs that I promise I'm still working on, I know I'm a fanfic-writing menace human XD).</p><p>this was supposed to be my first big, grand HXH Big Bang fic, but it got way too big for me to finish in time. and then I sat on it and imprisoned it for months, redrafting it a bagillion times. but I'm officially setting her free to you guys.</p><p>I do illustrations to build up inspo sometimes, so I have some sketches I'll link up as I post. the whole story is plotted out chapter-by-chapter, and most of it is written &amp; drafted up, so I'm going to post weekly for now!</p><p>I hope you like!^^ pls lemme know what you think, it fuels my soul.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. eyes blue like the atlantic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 1 in the design room with Gon Freecss &amp; Co.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the bop: <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2RrZbxdl9nuFMCrO71tXTG?si=C5E7ZQnjTaC1hNuw0Dp0CQ%22">Eyes Blue Like The Atlantic - Sista Prod, Subvrbs</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>G</strong>on’s chest fluttered, his head was light on his shoulders, and he hadn’t listened to a single word Zushi said.</p><p>Instead, the lofty, handsome CEO had thoroughly infiltrated his headspace.</p><p>This kind of thing wasn’t Gon’s area of expertise. He was usually thinking about what his next move was, what his next plan was, who he was going to text pictures of his breakfast to (currently alternating between Mito and Kurapika).</p><p>But today all he could think about was Killua’s hair like untamed snowfall, just barely ruffled over his eyes. His sharp tongue, shooting banter back effortlessly. Freshly ironed sleeves rolled to his elbows. </p><p>Gon took a deep breath and tried not to look too giddy.</p><p>“So I’ll take care of the character list and personality stuff, while the other team members sketch your face five hundred-ish times—”</p><p>At a glance Killua looked completely calm and collected, but Gon was more observant than people gave him credit for. You had to be, to be a hunter. To survive you need more than just Nen and insane rock paper scissors skills.</p><p>So yeah, he noticed how the corner of Killua’s mouth tipped up when challenged, how his eyes softened playfully, how for a second—just a second—a faint blush dusted his cheeks and the tips of his ears. How he then lost his balance while walking away.</p><p>Gon took another smile-squashing deep breath and focused on Zushi. Zushi, Zushi, Zushi. A super nice guy telling him stuff that he should probably know.</p><p>“—and lastly, plot. We’ll have to get deep—worst fears, moments that inspired you to be a hero, sordid past, all the stuff that makes you who you are. But that won’t be for a minute so you don’t have to put answers together right away!”</p><p>“Gotcha, gotcha, sounds good,” Gon grinned and nodded like someone who was for sure listening the whole time, following his guide into a vast office space. Their station was pushed up against a sleek, transparent glass wall separating them from the hallway.</p><p>Gon swiftly beelined over to peer through the wall, employees on the other side crisp and clear, trickling past to their offices. “This room is wild! Are all the offices like this?” </p><p>“Yep. Apparently the higher-ups tried to go for a nifty modern aesthetic. Privacy? Never met her,” Zushi joked, dropping his messenger bag onto the table.</p><p>Gon could already foresee his ADHD rioting in this room. Luckily, the soft lofi floating overhead should soothe his energy enough to retain calm.</p><p>A few members of the team worked at their stations intimately, focused, while the rest were chugging coffee and goofing off in the corner, revving up for the day. Computers and tablets littered wide tables with gorgeous concepts, scenery, and characters with fantastical features.</p><p>“—so we all loiter in here and sometimes get work done,” Zushi finished, patting Gon’s shoulder. “Hey, Knuckle! This is the guy, come greet our savior from side-scroller hell.”</p><p>A giant, giant dude with curls piled on the top of his head shoved his chair out and jogged over. The rest of the room offered trying-not-to-look-too-excited head nods and small waves.</p><p>“Greetings, greetings,” Knuckle bellowed, pulling Gon into a different plane of gravity with a fierce handshake. “The bossman was a heavy <em> Terraria </em> fanatic, so we’ve been suffering through his side-scroller requests for <em> months </em>.”</p><p>“I wanted to side-scroll myself right into the trash can,” Zushi offered, dropping into his seat with dramatic oomph.</p><p>“Which makes you our savior,” Knuckle added. The man’s face broke into a broad smile. It brought on a fuzzy, welcoming feeling—not to be mistaken with the also fuzzy, very numb feeling Knuckle’s handshake left behind.</p><p>Gon laughed and attempted to squeeze some life back into his fingers. “Glad I could help change things up. Was it that bad?”</p><p>“I was starting to have nightmares that I was stuck in a side-scroller, endlessly scrolling . . . and then scrolling some more,” Zushi shivered. “Always scrolling. No destination. No peace.”</p><p>“Valid,” Knuckle nodded gravely, then kicked a chair out for Gon. “And he wouldn’t let me put a single puppy in the game! He specifically sent out an email to say no puppies. Who bans puppies?”</p><p>“Leorio Paladiknight. He bans puppies,” Zushi confirmed.</p><p>Gon plopped down and shook his head in remorse for Knuckle’s lost dreams. “Need me to fabricate a fake puppy that was super important to my journey?”</p><p>Knuckle faked a sniffle. “What a guy. Such support. Do you see this support, Zush?”</p><p>“I see a hoard of angry Gon-fans,” Zushi rebounded and flipped open his laptop, opening some blank documents. “The guy is notorious for taking in foxbear rescues. They’ll maim us if we don’t cough up some foxbears.”</p><p>“Aren’t foxbears deadly?” Knuckle gaped at Gon with dubious admiration. “How many did you have?”</p><p>“Ah, just one, kinda,” Gon corrected with waving hands. “His name’s Kon, and he’s back on Whale Island with my Aunt Mito. The rest would definitely try to kill me.”</p><p>Zushi clattered away at his keyboard. “Kon, Whale Island, Aunt Mito. Anyone else I should add to the character sheet?” he asked. “Trusty sidekicks, romantic interests, secret twin brothers, best friends who turned out to be enemies?”</p><p>Gon laughed and answered, “Other than Aunt Mito and Kon? I guess just Kurapika.”</p><p>“Kurapika?” Zushi piped, key-clacking coming to a dead halt. “As in, the last living member of the Kurta clan Kurapika? Red-eyed, mafia-killing, king of vigilantes Kurapika?”</p><p>To be fair, Gon was used to people recoiling in fear at his only Hunter friend’s name. But judging by the looks of sheer terror on Zushi and Knuckle’s faces, he thought maybe he should text Kurapika later to chill out a little with the whole demon rep.</p><p>Gon smiled reassuringly. “He’s not so terrifying up close, I promise. Unless if you’re a Spider, or if it’s a nerf war. Then he’s for sure terrifying up close.”</p><p> “He’s . . . we’ll . . . we’ll probably need him to come in sometime for concept art,” Zushi gulped. He looked to Knuckle for emotional assistance, but his friend just shrugged as if to say ‘<a href="https://ih1.redbubble.net/image.256775008.1869/flat,550x550,075,f.u9.jpg"> guess we’ll die </a>’.</p><p>“Oh for sure! Makes sense, makes sense,” Gon nodded a lot, pondering how exactly he was going to convince his murder-spree bestie to sit down and let strangers draw him for hours on end.</p><p>“It . . . might take a minute though, if that’s okay. I’ll have to plot something up to convince him,” Gon said, sighing a stray spike from his eyes, mumbling to himself, “I’m still recovering from the last time I owed him.”</p><p>The two guys just stared at him, a flurry of violent and dangerous possibilities flashing across their eyes.</p><p>To get Kurapika to come to a thing like this, Gon realized he probably would have to . . . go <em> clubbing </em> with him again. He shuddered, but then rallied and looked up to the guys with a fresh smile.</p><p>“But anyway, that’s all the main characters. I wanna know more about you guys!”</p><p>“Uh, well, I grew up in a taekwondo studio . . .” Zushi trailed off, both men looking at Gon like ‘you’re really not going to expand on that’? But Gon’s mind had already propelled to the next topic, and deep down they probably didn’t want to know what ‘last time Gon owed Kurapika’ entailed.</p><p>So Zushi hesitantly went on, “I loved the artistic concept of it more than the actual fighting, like the human form. So I started to draw them,” he paused to waggle his pencil a little, “and then never stopped. And <em> this </em>puppy-loving boulder of a human designs all our animals, beasts, and monsters.”</p><p>Knuckle did a little salute and added, “The furry market is booming, my dudes. I’m thriving.”</p><p>Zushi facepalmed while Gon burst into laughter.</p><p>“But the basic gist of us is that we’ve been slaving here for a good year trying to get a project off the ground . . . and thanks to you, now we have. So, seriously, thank you,” Zushi said with a big, adorable grin. Knuckle followed suit with some thumbs up.</p><p>He didn’t usually stay in one place too long, or get super close to anyone (he was too busy bouncing all over the world), but looking at these two goofballs Gon suddenly felt a feeling that could only be compared to swinging open his front door on Whale Island, the jingle of his grandma’s old windchimes, the scent of Aunt Mito’s sweet bread wafting from the kitchen. It felt something a little like home.</p><p>Zushi prattled on with Knuckle, who had begun sketching out versions of Gon’s nose in several art styles.</p><p>“At my other job I worked solo from home, but I dunno, it just wasn’t it. I love the feel of this office, all shoved into one room suffering together.” Zushi smiled fondly at his fellow sufferers. Someone across the room growled and chucked a stylus at the water cooler.</p><p>“Art is pain,” Knuckle nodded solemnly. He raised a fist of solidarity for his raging teammate.</p><p>Gon smiled and silently watched, unsure if he was allowed to move as Knuckle scribbled his heart out.</p><p>“And <em> thank god </em>they carted Leorio out of here. Art may be pain, but Leorio somehow makes it worse,” Zushi shuddered, expression fading into utter disdain. “He used to sit right there in the office right next door.” Zushi pointed to the tiny adjacent office, entirely exposed through the clear wall.</p><p>“When he’s sad he listens to Billie Eilish,” Knuckle said, eyes still buried in his nostril-work. “Louder than any man should listen to Billie Eilish at work.”</p><p>Zushi added, “Not to mention the time that menace borrowed my station because ‘his assistant watched porn on his computer and it got a virus’.”</p><p>“He doesn’t have an assistant,” Knuckle supplied.</p><p>“And the next day, a peaceful Tuesday morning, I come in to find 5 empty Flamin’ Hot Cheetos bags and an orange keyboard.”</p><p>“Bright, sticky orange,” Knuckle echoed in disgust, shaking his head.</p><p>“But the worst part, worse than swimming in Cheeto dust and having images forever planted into my brain about what Leorio does with his computer during office hours. . .” his lips pouted and eyes welled up with actual, legitimate tears. “He destroyed my straw-wrapper snake collection.”</p><p>Knuckle cleared his throat and detailed, “He didn’t have any napkins to wipe his Cheeto fingers with, and uh . . . used them instead.”</p><p>Gon, mouth slightly open, blinked as Zushi’s raw emotion manifested in shaking fists and fiery eyes. “50 coffees of straw wrappers and dedication, gone. Nothing is sacred.”</p><p>Knuckle reached out his not-drawing arm to give Zushi a consoling arm pat. He reassured him with a simple “Revenge in due time, my dude. Revenge in due time.”</p><p>Just then, a soft, confident voice carried from the hallway. Gon perked up to see.</p><p>It wasn’t Killua—which made sense, the guy didn’t exactly seem the type to roam the halls. But he still felt the teeniest bit deflated, and the teeniest bit of annoyance toward the employee who wasn’t Killua.</p><p>Zushi continued ranting, “I don’t even know why he’s here. This isn’t Paladiknight’s dream job or anything, he’s only working here until the hospitals start hiring again. But until then he has his own fancy-pants office right near Mr. Zoldyck—”</p><p>Gon brightened and blurted, “You mean Killua?”</p><p>Zushi sighed and dropped his head into his hands (recent memories of their Killua encounter surely unearthed) and Knuckle chuckled, “Oof. Headfirst into first-name basis? So brave.”</p><p>“I try,” Gon said with semi-confident flair that only a hero could pull off. </p><p>He then shifted himself to apologetically poke at Zushi, in an effort to lure him out, to which the buzzcut boy swatted him away and groaned in misery, “Not brave, suicidal. Gon flirted with him, Knuckle. He <em> flirted </em> with <em> Killua Zoldyck </em>.”</p><p>Gon leaned back with a big ol’ innocent, shameless smile.</p><p>“. . . and he’s sitting here, not-murdered,” Knuckle trailed, looking up at the perky Gon as if he didn’t understand.</p><p>“I know!” Zushi exclaimed, flapping his hands out. “I mean, it makes  sense for a Hunter to have less fear than the average dude, but . . . you’re not intimidated at all?” he pressed, searching Gon’s face.</p><p>The hero shook his spiky head. “Nope. I mean, I’ve met plenty of intimidating people. But he’s just . . . not that. You know? He’s . . .”</p><p>Killua. He was so, so many things that Gon desperately wanted to know about. But all he had right now was a hunch. A gut feeling. A wave of heat in his chest when he imagined the man almost-smiling at him and walking away.</p><p>“I think Killua’s really sweet.”</p><p>At that, the entire room seemed to flatline; programmers and artists alike turned to look at Gon like his sanity had fluttered out the window and plummeted into the city traffic.</p><p>Knuckle and Zushi, however, took a moment to reclaim their jaws from the tile floor before <em> bursting </em>into laughter. All their Leorio-related misery was forgotten as Knuckle dropped his stylus and flung his arm around Zushi’s shoulders for support.</p><p>“Killua Zoldyck,” Knuckle wheezed, “sweet, Zush, he used the word sweet.” </p><p>“The guy who canceled take-your-child-to-work day because Leorio’s nephew looked him in the eyes for too long.”</p><p>“When the air conditioning broke, ten minutes into the work day he personally handed me a stick of deodorant and told me not to miss a spot.”</p><p>“He ‘accidentally’ spilled his tea on my shoe and called me a ‘common forest troll’ when I said white chocolate was my favorite.”</p><p>“And then,” Knuckle huffed for air, looking to Zushi, “the yo-yo.”</p><p>“Oh god, I blacked that out,” Zushi gasped. He dropped his hands into his lap and shook his head. “That was unreal.”</p><p>Gon looked back and forth between the two of them, curiosity burning. “What yo-yo?”</p><p>Zushi took a few more seconds to pull himself together, prepping for a more serious story. “Okay, so, he has this yo-yo, right?” he started, “and Leorio finds it, and naturally decides he’s going to become a yo-yo master.”</p><p>Knuckle nodded, as if that was indeed something Leorio would naturally do. </p><p>“And straight up, he cracked it in half with his bare hands because Leorio had ‘officially tainted his childhood’.”</p><p>Gon snorted. Genius.</p><p>Zushi waved his hands as if to dissipate Gon’s amusement from the air itself. “No, no, at first it’s hilarious, but the thing is . . . everyone who was there, and I mean everyone, swears the string literally turned to dust. Like it was set on fire, or electrocuted, or something.”</p><p>Knuckle nodded like a frantic bobblehead, adding, “It was unreal levels of freaky. I thought they were lying, but I dunno man, there’s something about that guy that’s just edgy enough to make it add up.”</p><p>Gon sat back, mouth falling open a little. If he really thought about it . . . something about Killua’s energy was different than everyone else’s. It lit up the room, buzzed beneath his skin, left an edge that Gon couldn’t shake off even after the man disappeared from view. </p><p>He honestly thought it was because the guy was ungodly levels of hot.</p><p>. . . But maybe his feelings threw his perception off a little. Maybe it was more than hotness, something even more intriguing.</p><p>“So when do we see him again?” Gon grinned, wide and a bit exhilarated. “Is there like, daily meetings or—”</p><p>“No, no, no,” Zushi said matter-of-factly, patting him on the shoulder. “We see the head honcho of imminent doom once a month, and not one micro-second sooner.”</p><p>“What if I . . .” Gon leaned his elbows onto the desk and zapped Zushi with a heavy dose of puppy eyes, “Had a question about contract stuff?”</p><p>“Why?” Zushi asked miserably, “Why him? Why not Retz, or Neon—or, or even Leorio?” He paused to put a hand atop Gon’s and said solemnly, “I’ll put away my straw-wrapper snake feud for you. I’ll throw it all behind me.”</p><p>Gon shook his head and insisted with his best dead-serious eyes, “I would never let you sacrifice your life-long grudge for me. Those snakes took 50 coffees.”</p><p>Zushi slapped the table. “Damn straight they did, that weasel in a suit stole my youth. But anyway, we have so, so many humans here!” he maintained, urging Gon to look at all his co-workers in the room. “Look around, pick one. Anyone.”</p><p>Gon laughed, “I’m not just gonna point at someone in the room like they’re a chicken nugget meal at the drive-thru. And Killua really wasn’t that bad!”</p><p>“He asserted his dominance, told you you were uninteresting, and said he’ll let you buy him pizza if your life doesn’t suck.”</p><p>Gon nodded and dropped his chin into his hands, a dreamy look settling on his face. “Yeah. It was awesome.”</p><p>For the umpteenth time that day, Zushi slapped a hand to his face. “Blind. He’s socially blind, Knuck.”</p><p>But Gon wasn’t paying attention, because a smooth voice struck him through the chest, and this time it actually <em> was </em>Killua. The man himself strolled into the office beside them and stealthily plucked something from a desk.</p><p>He thought he saw blue eyes glance over the room, over him, but it was so brief that it could have been his imagination.</p><p>Gon slammed two hands on the table and jumped up. “Bathroom break?”</p><p>His new friends nodded dumbly. But by the time he’d jogged into the hallway, Killua was nowhere to be found.</p><p>At the end of the workday, he waited in front of the massive company building, rocking on his heels, hoping for a chance to spot Killua before heading home—to say God knows what. It just—it felt like an itch under his skin, a burning in his chest, to see the man one more time.</p><p>He didn’t show. But Gon still found himself illuminated by the potential for tomorrow. With one last peek at the doors, he turned to make his way back to his hotel.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>next chapter will have plenty of Killua, I pinky swear, but I thought this was a fun little Gon Making Some Friends chapter to start off with.^^ </p><p>thank you guys so much for all the love on the first chapter! I hope you liked this one too, lemme know what you think. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. i dress like shit, call it fashion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Just another day at work, except Gon sneaks away from his responsibilities and barrels into Killua's office roughly every 15 minutes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the bop: <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/0IKAJbxilT3mMp3LbhoH2l?si=hbJkpYsoSP6nxUF5ou0E6A">Fashion - The Royal Concept</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>I</b>t was a new day. A fresh, sparkling, Gon-Freecss-less day. The sun warmed Killua’s face and forearms as he leisurely beelined it to the glass entrance of Godspeed Games, hot chocolate in hand.</p><p>He’d successfully avoided Gon the entire day before: in the hallway when he’d tried to invite him to lunch, in the bathroom when he had to hop on the toilet to pretend the stall was empty (not one of his finer moments), and once more when he needed to grab a budget report from Leorio’s old desk.</p><p>Which conveniently sat right next to the design room.</p><p>Next time he was sending the old fart to get it himself.</p><p>Gon definitely saw him, but what was important was that Gon didn’t see <em> Killua </em> see <em> him </em>. He’d confiscated the folder and made a swift getaway just as the guy’s spiky head peeked out the door.</p><p>Today he wouldn’t be making any amateur mistakes. He would speed-walk directly to his personal elevator and embark on a glorious day of sunny, chocolate-soaked solitude.</p><p>The budget breakdown for the Hero X Hunter game was folded across his desk in sectored piles, and Killua was (for once) relieved to spend his day buried in them.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Gon sat cross-legged on his hotel bed, staring intensely at the three outfits he’d lugged with him to Yorknew.</p><p>Yes, three.</p><p>In his defense, he only wore one outfit for the majority of his life. And he was kinda more focused on squashing the bad guys and protecting innocent animals than stuff like <em> looking good </em>.</p><p>But one glance at Killua Zoldyck made him feel like maybe, ya’know, just maybe, fashion might not be such a bad thing to invest time in. So instead of throwing something on and breezing through the lobby, Gon found himself squinting out at his clothes for twenty more minutes, hoping a stylish ensemble would materialize on his duvet.</p><p>He already wore his nicest outfit to the meeting yesterday—a forest green knit sweater and slacks. Mito spent the entire week making it for him so he wouldn’t look like a ‘cute little forest wanderer’ at his first professional meeting. And Gon had kinda planned to just . . . keep washing that outfit?</p><p>But nope, nope, that was way out of the question now. Not if he didn’t want Killua to think he was a greasy dirt boy. Also he forgot to wash it.</p><p>Moving on—his second (also very green) outfit hadn’t fit him since he was 12, but Mito always managed to sneak it into his backpack anyway. She was sentimental like that.</p><p>His heart tugged a little looking at it.</p><p>And then, lastly, there lay a white tank top and (yes, green) sweats for working out. But he couldn’t just—waltz into the company in his sweatpants! Or, could he? He imagined Killua’s arched eyebrows, the expression of a man wondering if he’d actually just hired a gym bro. </p><p>No, no, definitely not. Gon groaned and frantically ruffled his hair.</p><p>Killua was—he was refined, and effortlessly striking. He wore crisp suit vests and probably had an entire wardrobe of those baby blue collared shirts, like some immaculately handsome cartoon character.</p><p>He peeked at the clock: <em> 8:00am </em>. He was supposed to meet up with Zushi and the design crew at 9:30 . . . so he’d be cutting it close for sure, but these were crisis hours.</p><p>Gon realized he needed an assist, and all but leapt across the bed for his phone.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><b>Freakss: </b>pls help me</p>
  <p><b>KPika:</b> ?</p>
  <p><b>Freakss:</b> can you come to my hotel room and bring cool clothes?</p>
  <p><b>KPika:</b> You only packed one outfit, didn’t you.</p>
  <p><b>Freakss:</b> no i packed three! but they all suck</p>
  <p><b>KPika:</b> They better be an affront to clothing everywhere if you’re waking me up before noon.</p>
  <p><b>Freakss: </b>they are, they are 😭 all the other clothes on the street will laugh at them. pleaseplease help me! i need to look good today</p>
  <p><b>Freakss:</b> for no reason in particular</p>
  <p><b>KPika:</b> I didn’t think there was a reason until you said it like that.</p>
  <p><b>Freakss: </b>🙏 I beg you. take pity on me</p>
  <p><b>KPika:</b> Do I get a favor back?</p>
  <p><b>Freakss:</b> ...only if you don’t want to help your best friend in the world out of the goodness of your heart?😊</p>
  <p><b>KPika:</b> LOL no, we’re going clubbing.</p>
  <p><b>Freakss: </b>but we have such beautiful plans to cook and watch tv</p>
  <p><b>KPika: </b>Clubbing &gt; Animal Planet and nachos. At 10:30pm we rise.</p>
  <p><b>Freakss: </b>wait, rise??</p>
  <p><b>Freakss:</b> but you’re bringing the clothes now right???</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Gon sighed and slumped into the duvet. Kurapika had either gone to hold up his end of the bargain or went back to sleep, so Gon threw on his sweats and kicked back to stare at the door and hope really hard for the former.</p><p>The longer he waited, the more regret trickled down his spine.</p><p>Gon hated clubs. He hadn’t gone drinking since . . . well, the first time he went drinking with Kurapika, where he accidentally pulled the dancer’s pole out of the cement and knocked out the DJ with it.</p><p>The blonde club-fiend had to pull some serious strings (threaten people ominously left and right) to keep it out of the media.</p><p>Gon’s first instinct was to whip out the ol’ hunter card, but Kurapika went on about how he had a reputation to uphold as the ‘damn golden boy of society’ now, etc, etc. How his action figures paid for his rent etc, etc. How, no, he couldn’t just concede all his earthly possessions and live amongst the trees, etc, etc.</p><p>But it’s okay, this was worth it. </p><p>He’d just have to toss the shots Kurapika gives him over his shoulder or something . . . and hope the savage doesn’t notice and give him a 5-shot penalty (Kurapika’s second-favorite type of penalty).</p><p>Twenty minutes later, his friend was buzzing at the door in his usual harmony: savagely holding the button down until Gon slid across the room in his socks to swing it open.</p><p>“You came!” Gon let loose a big relieved smile.</p><p>Kurapika stared back with red-rimmed, unenthusiastic eyes. “Yup. And I only brought one option, so you have no choice but to like it.” He brushed past Gon with a few hangers hooked over his fingers and made his way to the scene of the fashion crime.</p><p>Gon rubbed his hands together and followed. “Awesome! Whatever it is, I’ll wear it. Seriously, my standards don’t exist.”</p><p>Kurapika spotted the little green shorts on Gon’s bed and a small laugh broke through his composure. “Oh God, it’s like you’re trying to cosplay yourself.”</p><p>“I know,” Gon winced. “I even tried it on.”</p><p>Kurapika gave him a look as if to say <em> you didn’t </em>.</p><p>“It was desperation hours this morning and I might have actually ripped the pants.”</p><p>The blonde snorted lightly. “Okay, yeah, that adds up. But in the future I’m going to need you to push your desperation hours into the late afternoon.” He hooked the outfit offering onto the top of the mirror and collapsed into the bed. “There ya go, have at it. Since you decided to wake me up at the crack of ass, I’ll be finishing my slumber here.”</p><p>“Sure thing,” Gon grinned, “but no promises on desperation hours. I almost always run into chaos in the wee minutes of the morning.”</p><p>Kurapika sighed in exaggerated despair while Gon hopped into the navy slacks, pulled the white-collared shirt over his head, and hooked suspender straps over his shoulders. He did a mirror check, running fingers through his spikes.</p><p>“I look like a fancy waiter.”</p><p>“You look like a hot, big-armed brewery hipster,” Kurapika threw his thumbs up from beneath some pillows. “You’re welcome.”</p><p>With one last fidgety but satisfied look in the mirror, he nodded. “True, true. God, you’re the best. But I’ve gotta run to make it in time, so I’ll see you after work!”</p><p>“No you won’t,” Kurapika corrected with a firm finger in the air. “Not a second before 10:30.”</p><p>Gon laughed, “Guess I’m working late then. Thanks again!” He tossed a fuzzy blanket over his friend and booked it for the door, swiping his wallet from the table.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>10:50am </em>
</p><p>The first time Gon’s spiky head poked into his office, Killua almost spit out his hot chocolate. The guy gave a little wave and let himself on in as Killua hacked into his sleeve.</p><p>“Hey, sorry if I surprised you!” he greeted, all smiles and suspenders, throwing up a thumb to point back at the door. “I knocked a ton.”</p><p>Killua had heard the entire 8 minutes of knocking and hadn’t answered on purpose, especially when Gon started knocking to the beat of <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/0TK2YIli7K1leLovkQiNik?si=81Iuh8VjTMatwblduPq5Sw"> Señorita </a>, quietly humming along.</p><p>This guy.</p><p>Well, he’d tried his best, but there was no ignoring Gon now, with his dimples mere feet away. So Killua pulled out his airpods and said casually, “Didn’t hear ya, I get in the zone while I work. What’s up?”</p><p>Gon grinned and just stood there for a minute, hands at his sides, as if he hadn’t thought things through this far.</p><p>Then, after rebooting brain.exe, he blurted, “I saw your email! That the proposal was accepted. And I just wanted to, uh, come in person and say thanks, since it’s my first official day and all.”</p><p>The man’s smile was giant and genuine, and his little shrug was adorable. Suspender straps tugged at broad shoulders, making Killua want to blast the air conditioning in his face.</p><p>But instead he cleared his throat and replied, “No problem, Freecss. I wouldn’t turn down the best proposal this year.”</p><p>He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or if Gon’s grin got just a fraction cockier. “Good, good. Zushi said you’re super picky, so I didn’t know if I was what you were looking for.”</p><p>Killua gulped. The smile on Gon’s face hinted that he knew he was in fact what every person was looking for. He was the epitome of it: dashing hero who runs around saving the continents and wearing the hell out of suspender straps (which Killua 100% didn’t know he had a thing for before today).</p><p>“Especially since you’ve been hiding out in your office all day,” Gon added, head tilting with a playful look. “Didn’t wanna see me, Killua?”</p><p>Killua sputtered and slapped away the file he was perusing, “What? Why would I go all the way down to the design room to see you?”</p><p>“The same reason I came here to see you,” Gon responded easily.</p><p>“To thank me?” he asked slowly.</p><p>Big smile. “Nope.”</p><p>“. . . but you just said you came here to thank me,” Killua spoke flatly.</p><p>“I also said I wanted to say hi to you on my first official day,” Gon affirmed, leaning forward on the desk. He was just close enough for Killua to inhale his cologne, for his spirit to ascend, for his sanity to lose grip under the incredibly handsome man who was both blocking the sun and blinding him.</p><p>“So? Go ahead I guess?” Killua challenged, trying very hard not to scrunch up like a defensive cat. He forced his shoulders to stay lax, confident.</p><p>Gon smiled. “So, hey Killua.”</p><p>“Sup, Freecss,” Killua nodded, short of breath. His pride was the only thing preventing him from shoving his chair back into the wall, to console his rampaging chest.</p><p>He cleared his throat. “So now that we’ve said hi, you’ve thanked me for accepting your proposal and being the most kickass boss ever, did you get what you came for?”</p><p>“Yup, I’d say so,” Gon nodded, uprighting himself and tucking his thumbs into his pockets.</p><p>“Because I’m buried in work, y’know, running the whole company and all,” Killua went on, hinting for the guy to maybe make his way back out.</p><p>“Right, right,” Gon nodded a bunch, then glanced to the clock. “Did you eat yet?”</p><p>Killua blinked and looked to the clock too, to find it was only . . . 11am. (Not to mention that nobody except Alluka has ever asked that kinda thing. Including Leorio, who technically is <em> supposed </em> to ask that kinda thing. And then bring him meals every day. As his job).</p><p>“Uh, yeah, Leorio will drop some semblance of food off any minute now. Don’t worry about it,” Killua fibbed with a small smile.</p><p>Gon looked appeased for the moment and stepped back towards the door. “All righty. I’ll leave you to it, then!” </p><p>And with a little wave, the room was empty and Killua could breathe.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Stay still for just one more second, my dude,” Knuckle said, stylus hanging from his teeth as he squinted at Gon, attempting to visualize a more aesthetic hairstyle.</p><p>It wasn’t going very well. </p><p>Gon’s hair was wild and untameable, even in art. Knuckle’s tablet was aggressively riddled with undercuts and perms and hair accessories from bandanas to cowboy hats (the yeehaw energy did <em> not </em>suit him). Nothing seemed to look right, and Gon’s patience was fraying.</p><p>He sighed, right leg wiggling with energy as he looked through the clear wall.</p><p>“What’s your favorite fruit?” Zushi asked from beside Knuckle, reining him back in. He was staying true to his claim that they would ‘start with the simple stuff,’ but these questions were starting to feel a little unnecessary.</p><p>Then again, with Killua in the same building, everything felt unnecessary.</p><p>“Spaghetti,” Gon nodded, garnering semi-surprised snorts from his new friends.</p><p>“Respect,” Knuckle said. “Superior veggie for sure, but Zush is thinking of something you could, y’know, pluck off a tree while running through terrain to regain HP or something.”</p><p>“Oh!” Gon said, lighting up a little. “Well, I eat a lot of berries or fish when there’s nothing else around. It didn’t always go too well when I was a kid, though; I’ve been poisoned 43 times. Aunt Mito used to get so mad picking me up from the ER,” he laughed, scratching at the back of his head.</p><p>“You’ve been <em> poisoned 43 times </em>?” Zushi gaped, unsure why he was still shocked. Gon’s reckless personality was quickly transparent.</p><p>Knuckle chimed in, “Badass, should I sketch up some poisonous berries? So like, the player has to choose which to pick and it could either heal or poison him?”</p><p>Zushi slapped at the table. “Yes, god yes. Draw some fish too, maybe some can be like—” </p><p>“Completely inedible, and very angry to be taken from the water?” Gon added soberly. “Rockfish are named super accurately. I have two veneers.” He dropped his jaw and pointed to two especially flawless-looking teeth.</p><p>Zushi turned to Knuckle and dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Fishing mini-game.”</p><p>“Fishing mini-game,” Knuckle hiss-wheezed in solidarity, drawing rabidly. “Fuck yeah.”</p><p>Gon laughed and peeked into the hallway again. “Hey, so uh, while you guys work on that, I gotta pee, so . . . ,” he trailed off, weedling out of his chair and towards the door. The two guys waved him off, fully enveloped in their work.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>11:15am </em>
</p><p>Hearing a familiar whistle echo its way toward his office, Killua gulped and unconsciously lifted his hands to ruffle at his hair and adjust his collar. He slapped his hands back onto the keyboard just in time for the door to open.</p><p>Gon leaned into the room and greeted, “Hey, Killua?”</p><p>“Freecss?” He glanced briefly at the guy before looking back to his computer. When he realized he was just staring intently at background photos—and no documents were actually open—he started to adjust his icons by color.</p><p>“Okay, so I know you said Leorio would do it—but I checked, and he’s fighting with his cleaning lady over an adult film that went missing, so I got you something.”</p><p>Killua made a mental note to murder Leorio and turned his full attention to a chipper Gon, who was holding out a bowl of Cheerios as if it were a sacred offering.</p><p>“That’s my brunch?” he pointed, unimpressed.</p><p>“Yep! Healthy start to a healthy day, Killua. Gotta rein in that cholesterol before you keel over.”</p><p>“So you brought me bird feed in cow water.”</p><p>Gon grimaced a little. “. . . Well when you say it like that, it sounds really gross.”</p><p>“Because it <em> is </em> really gross,” Killua snorted, waving him off. “If you’re going to bring me cereal, at least make it Lucky Charms or something so I can drown out the misery of having to eat cereal.”</p><p>“But Lucky Charms is just sugar,” Gon expressed.</p><p>Killua ever-so-slightly waggled his eyebrows. “I know, that’s the allure—the super secret ingredient that makes them so edible.”</p><p>“It’s not super secret if it’s the <em> only ingredient </em>, Killua,” Gon laughed, plopping the bowl of cereal in front of Killua as he wrinkled his nose at it. “Plus, I bet you were the kinda kid that just ate all the marshmallows.”</p><p>“Hell yeah,” Killua nodded, calculating the trajectory he’d have to throw the cereal bowl to snipe it directly through the open window. “It’s not just a snack, but a mission. You have to scavenge for marshmallows, and then eat them. A relaxing morning activity for a kid with literally nothing else to do.”</p><p>“That’s a super detailed description of your history with cereal,” Gon noted, still laughing a little. “So should I hide these Cheerios inside a bowl of something ten times less delicious? So you can hunt them down and eat them?”</p><p>Killua slimmed his eyes at the hunter, who looked like he thought he was oh so clever. “Don’t you dare come back with a bowl of Cheerios in kale, Gon, I swear to god.”</p><p>Gon hummed to himself. “. . . So you’re not going to eat it?”</p><p>After a few seconds of watching Killua practically hiss at the food, Gon reached out to pick up the undesired brunch. But then Killua blocked him by sticking a flat hand out over the bowl. </p><p>“Leave it, I’ll feed it to whoever I fire today.”</p><p>Gon sputtered, “You’re firing someone today?”</p><p>Killua dragged the bowl close to himself and offered a small smirk. “Not if he gets out of my office and back to work.”</p><p>At that, Gon mock-saluted to him and jogged back to the design room.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“What’s your . . . favorite type of video game?” Zushi swished around his Starbucks cup, eyeing a potential straw-wrapper snake on the table.</p><p>“What, are you going to have me play video games in the video game?” Gon laughed.</p><p>“Hunterception,” Knuckle nodded. “Very artsy, Zush. Very sheek.”</p><p>“I wasn’t asking for the game, I was just curious,” Zushi said, poking his tongue out, already loopy from 4 hours of continuous concentration. The intensity of their passion seemed to leave the design team with sizzling brains and zero energy, chugging coffee for lifeblood.</p><p>“To be honest,” Gon started, pausing to think, “I’m a sucker for farming RPGs. When <em> Harvest Moon </em> came out, I told Mito I had the flu and huddled on the couch and farmed turnips for two weeks.”</p><p>Knuckle slapped a hand down, almost shaking some poor girl’s tablet off the adjacent table, startling Zushi in his seat. He looked at Gon like they were kindred bros, kept apart far too long.</p><p>“YES,” he boomed, and then turned to Zushi. “Please tell me we can switch the proposal to a Hunter farming simulator.”</p><p>Zushi sputtered up his iced coffee and looked between the two guys. “Did I propose the wrong game for our generation?”</p><p>Gon slowly lifted a hand to cover his mouth and narrated: “Gon Freecss, former hunter, is left with his mysterious late grandfather’s farm and two cabbages to his name. But first, before anything else happens, he must make a choice. Does he want the pointy-eared dog . . . or the floppy-eared dog?”</p><p>Zushi wheezed and Knuckle slapped the table a few more times. “Floppy. Always floppy.”</p><p>“Pointy,” Zushi concluded, still sounding a little loopy but newly caffeinated. “Big pointy ears with a tiny little head.”</p><p>Gon laughed while Knuckle looked slightly affronted. “You can’t choose head sizes, my dearest bro. Have you ever played <em> Harvest Moon </em> or do we have to have an educational gaming night?”</p><p>Zushi sighed, “It matters not, my friends, because Mr. Zoldyck would never go for that type of game. He gets all excited over serious details . . . like, badass but realistic weapons, heavy storylines, intricate dialogue . . .”</p><p>“<em> Harvest Moon </em> begins with your grandpa’s death and ends with marriage to a girl, denying the validity of gay marriage. Heavy,” Knuckle responded matter-of-factly. “And there are like 17 different types of hoes.” </p><p>Zushi’s eyes bulged. “17 whatnow?”</p><p>“Farming hoes!” Gon corrected quickly, waving his hands. “Not . . . girl-hoes.”</p><p>“As all women are precious,” Knuckle nodded, Gon joining him in solidarity. “But Zushi’s not far off the mark, the bossman is a slut for the serious stuff. Held an entire meeting about ‘realistic assassin weapons’ just last week.” Knuckle shook his head and powered down his tablet. </p><p>Lunchtime had announced itself in the form of their escalating stomach grumblings. But before they could plot their foodie moves, Gon slapped a hand over his mouth, realization dawning. “Oh, crap, guys.”</p><p>The starved duo looked to him dubiously.</p><p>“What’s considered a ‘realistic weapon’?”</p><p>Zushi paused for thought, then: “Just something that isn’t too out there, I guess? And if it is out there, it has to look badass and have realistic dynamics for hacking, chopping, throwing, and/or shooting.”</p><p>“Huh,” Gon gulped and nodded a lot to himself. “And what if it has none of those things?”</p><p>“Something that’s out there, doesn’t look badass, and has unrealistic dynamics?”</p><p>Gon’s face dissolved into a bashful grimace and Zushi paled with understanding.</p><p>“No, Gon.”</p><p>“Zushi.”</p><p>“Gon, no,” Zushi pleaded.</p><p>“I’m not following,” Knuckle chimed in, tugging his bag over his shoulder.</p><p>“No, Gon. No,” Zushi whispered dramatically.</p><p>“Zushi, I have something to confess.”</p><p>Zushi gulped, took a hefty sip of his iced coffee, looked to Gon with 20% mock seriousness and 80% visceral fear, and said, “Confess, my child.”</p><p>“Fishing rod,” Gon blurted quickly, his cheeks tinged pink.</p><p>Zushi blanched. “Please, please tell me this is a grand confession that your love of fishing reaches deeper than survival purposes.”</p><p>Gon shook his head and gave a giant apologetic smile. “My weapon is a fishing rod.”</p><p>Knuckle snorted and slapped his friend’s shoulder, knocking the straw wrapper out of his fingers. He pinched at Zushi’s face, failing to drag color back into his paled cheeks. “Oof. Didn’t mention that in the big presentation, did ya, Zush?”</p><p>“No, no. No, no, no. A <em> fishing rod </em>?” He tugged his cheeks free and reeled back to Gon.</p><p>“You really had no idea?” Gon asked, “I carry it literally everywhere. It was in half the pictures!”</p><p>“I just thought you liked fishing!” Zushi cried.</p><p>“Or had to survive off eating raw fish and the tears of your enemies,” Knuckle added. “You had a real adventurous, man-of-the-wild vibe going on.”</p><p>Gon grinned bashfully and scratched at the back of his head. “If it helps, the whole having-powers thing means I don’t have to whip out the fishing rod too much . . . But you should probably include it in the sketches.”</p><p>Zushi gulped again, likely envisioning Killua’s face when he sees the protagonist of his hero video game wielding nothing but a fishing rod, an armful of Aunt Mito’s sweaters, and a big ol’ island-boy smile. </p><p>He shook his head, regrouping, and said, “We can fix this, we can fix this.”</p><p>“After lunch,” Knuckle said, pointing at the both of them. “Nothing new will happen until I have a mouth full of lettuce and meat.”</p><p>“Aye aye,” Gon grinned, pulling a wobbly Zushi to his feet. “Don’t worry, I managed to be famous with my notoriously whack weapon choice. It’s more sentimental than brute force.”</p><p>“Ooh, sentimental, I like the sound of sentimental. I can work with sentimental,” Zushi nodded numbly, trailing along with him.</p><p>“But . . . I’ll have to meet you guys at the cafe, I need to make a quick stop!” Gon announced, passing Zushi off to Knuckle and turning on his heels to zoom in the other direction.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>12:05pm </em>
</p><p>Killua took a bite from his third chocolate bar of the day, savoring the sweet, peanut-laced bite with a big closed-mouth smile, humming at the character sketches splayed across his dual monitors.</p><p>Normally, he’d leave character sketches to the doofus clan in the character design room, but he, weirdly enough, had his own vision for Gon’s character.</p><p>It was not at all inspired by his inability to stop thinking of him. Not at all because the man’s most intricate features were imprinting onto the depths of his mind, overwriting and setting fire to everything else that was supposed to matter.</p><p>Not at all because of those goddamn suspender straps.</p><p>Nope.</p><p>The door inched open and Killua swatted all his documents closed in an anxious flurry, swiveling back into his chair. By the time Gon’s beaming face breached the room, Killua had settled into a convincing expression of boredom.</p><p>“Hey Killua, do you wanna come down to the cafe for lunch? I thought you might be lonely hanging solo in the office all day.”</p><p>“I’m used to the solo life,” Killua assured him, opening his chocolate drawer to grab another bar and drop it onto the desk. He patted the side of the drawer affectionately, “And I’ve got all the food I need right here.”</p><p>Gon sighed at the sugar monster that sat before him. “Killua, at this rate you’re not going to make it to twenty-five.” </p><p>Killua flipped through a packet on top of the dozens of other packets, looking casually busy. “It’s not like we have plans when I’m twenty-five, Freecss.”</p><p>“We could,” Gon insisted, and Killua almost gave his whole face a papercut from how fiercely he flipped the page.</p><p>“<em> Hah?” </em></p><p>“But it might take a bit longer than that if you keep avoiding me like this.” </p><p>Gon looked unsure of himself for a second—a very brief second—before his face returned to sunshine and confidence. But one second was one second too many.</p><p>So he set the papers aside and snorted, “What? You’re the most unavoidable man I’ve ever met. You corner me in here once an hour, even though CYNTHIA,” Killua called out loudly to reach the reception area, “IS SUPPOSED TO CHECK WITH ME FIRST.”</p><p>“Sorry, Mr. Zoldyck!” the girl squeaked from outside.</p><p>Gon laughed, loud and contagious. “Please don’t blame her, I bribed her with coconut oil from the Kangaroo Mountains,” he said, the doubt completely overrun by his usual smile. Killua couldn’t help but feel relieved. “You’re sure you’re not avoiding me?”</p><p>“Positive,” he nodded resolutely.</p><p>“Because you missed the storyline meeting and walked away when I waved to you at the water cooler,” Gon noted teasingly.</p><p>“I wasn’t feeling creative or thirsty,” Killua shrugged and clicked away at his icon decor, this time organizing by lifestyle category. “I used to live a life of leisure. Now I have to budget how much it’ll cost to animate your right nostril.”</p><p>“Oh, shit,” Gon said, “really? How much does it cost?” He dropped his hands onto Killua’s desk and leaned in, trying to take a peek at his computer. Broad shoulders cast a shadow, arms flexed in his collared shirt, and Killua’s lungs effectively collapsed.</p><p>“I—don’t get so close, I don’t need to—I was making a joke, Freecss,” Killua rambled, poking Gon’s shoulder back until they were both standing upright.</p><p>“Well I can’t tell, since you’re avoiding both me and eye contact.”  </p><p>This little shit, with that little-shit grin on his handsome face. He was going to give Killua an aneurysm.</p><p>“<em> Okay </em>, I get it. Fine. Is this what you want, huh?” Killua said, leaning forward himself this time, locking blue eyes with amber. He wasn’t quite as close as Gon had gotten a few moments ago, but still close enough for Killua to feel the shift in the air from the man’s deep, surprised breaths. </p><p>Close enough to see the dizzying cut of his jawline and stubborn pools of amber that licked heat into his chest. A softness, a warmth, a sense of safety that made him want to inch closer and lose himself in it.</p><p>But he couldn’t.</p><p>Killua ripped his attention back to his computer and plopped back into his chair.</p><p>“Now,” Killua said, casually brushing off his slacks, “that should hold you over for at least two hours, right?”</p><p>Gon blinked at where Killua used to be for a moment, before shaking his head and regrouping with a grin. “One, one and a half. Give or take.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It did not hold him over.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 12:53pm </em>
</p><p>“Hey, Killua! Zushi was wondering about the budget report, so I thought I’d mosey on by and ask you.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 1:42pm </em>
</p><p>“Hey Killua, I follow this instagram shop that sells plants and it made me think of that super ugly one you have by the window over there.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 2:26pm </em>
</p><p>“Hey Killua, how’re you doing?”</p><p>“Since you asked 44 minutes ago?”</p><p>“. . . So you counted too?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 3:12pm </em>
</p><p>Gon (conveniently on his merry way back from the vending machine) knocked on the glass wall, held up a bottle of Mountain Dew and mouthed “want any”?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 3:18pm </em>
</p><p>Gon not-so-inconspicuously walked past the outside of his office, pretending not to be checking in on what Killua was up to.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 4:00pm </em>
</p><p>“Hey Killua, I tried to buy you some coffee because you looked sleepy, but the lady insisted it be <em> half whipped cream </em> and looked very scared when I asked her to put more coffee in for you. So it looks like straight-up diabetes. But I hope it helps keep you awake!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 4:35pm </em>
</p><p>“Killua, Killua, listen to this. So Leorio’s cleaning lady found his uh—special video—guess where.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“C’mon, guess. Guess where.”</p><p>“I will never, ever do that.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 4:47pm </em>
</p><p>“Hey Killua. So Cynthia was wondering if she could go home early today, her nephew has a soccer game, but she was afraid to ask since she’s been letting me in all day. Is that cool?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It was almost six o’clock and Killua was ready to rip his hair out. Everywhere he turned—Gon. Every time he thought he was alone—Gon. His image was burned onto the back of his eyelids, his scent clogging his sinuses, his fingerprints smelted onto the doorknob of his office, sketches of his face riddling Killua’s dual monitors and tablet.</p><p>This was getting out of control. How fucking needy could a man be?</p><p>Speaking of . . . Killua peeked at the clock and then to his closed door. As hard as he stared at it, the door remained closed, not even a slight rattle insinuating movement outside. </p><p>Killua pouted. Sure, choose now to st— </p><p>And as if on cue, a short knock on the door precipitated Gon’s swinging entrance, looking as adamant and adorable as the other 11 times he’d barged in.</p><p>“Okay,” he announced, “this time I’ve got it!”</p><p>“Got what?” Killua asked, pout smothered by an amused smirk. He pushed his papers to the side in case the hurricane of a man came any closer.</p><p>Gon gave him a big smug smile and pulled two limited edition choco-robos from behind his back. “A token of my friendship, and the beginning of a super small request.”</p><p>Killua raised a cautious eyebrow. “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to ask me something ridiculous and inappropriate?”</p><p>Gon just stood there smiling, not at all denying.</p><p>Killua snorted. “All right, shoot.”</p><p>He dove right in, “So the thing is, I’m kinda indebted to my best friend and have to do something I really, really don’t want to do tonight.”</p><p>Killua’s eyebrow shot up further. “What.”</p><p>“Clubbing,” Gon hissed as if it were the worst word in the human language. “He’s making me go clubbing. I hate clubbing with a burning passion, but then I got the brilliant idea that maybe you could make it less painful by, well, coming with me,” he presented, smiling nice and wide, waggling the chocolate in the air.</p><p>Killua’s eyes followed the robots, his mouth watering against his will. “You want me to go . . . clubbing with you? Tonight?”</p><p>“That’s the idea,” Gon nodded.</p><p>“Why?” he asked, blinking at the force of nature leaning against his desk.</p><p>“Because,” he said simply, amber eyes bright, “I think you’re really cool.”</p><p>Killua flushed from his toes to his ears, eyes lifting from the chocolate to Gon. He felt a few seconds tick by, the weight of Gon’s gaze heavier with each moment. Then he blindly blurted the first words he could summon: </p><p>“Your suspenders are really cool.”</p><p>Gon burst into a small laugh, “You like them? Thanks! My friend loaned me an outfit since I . . . forgot to do laundry.”</p><p>Killua wanted to fling himself out the nearest window (which was conveniently close, seeing as half his walls were windows). “But . . . as for later, I actually have plans tonight.”</p><p>He didn’t.</p><p>“Ah, gotcha, no worries,” Gon smiled, but looked just a little deflated. “I’ll uh, just drop these here for your troubles, and I should probably be checking on what they’re trying to do to my fictional hair now.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, for sure. Go check out your newest perm.” Killua half-heartedly waved him off.</p><p>Gon nodded and stepped back towards the door. “Let me know if your plans change, though! I’ll be around for a bit longer.”</p><p>“I will,” Killua agreed, pulling some folders back in front of him. “I mean, I guess it’s not the <em> worst </em> thing I could do with my night.”</p><p>“Huh?” Gon blinked, as if unsure if he heard correctly. </p><p>Shit. Killua looked up at him and recovered with a: “God knows what chaos will go down if you step foot in a club. Somebody has to keep you in one piece. And . . . to go with you, it wouldn’t totally suck.” He coughed a little over his shoulder.</p><p>When he looked back to Gon, he almost startled in his wheely chair, finding the guy lit up like a human Christmas tree. Hand on the door, he said, “I hope you can, Killua. But if not, have fun tonight!”</p><p>This guy.</p><p>Once he was completely out of sight, Killua smiled. He was cute. </p><p>Annoying, sure, but cute.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>6:45pm </em>
</p><p>Killua leaned toward the hallway, looking out for signs of the handsome, spiky-haired menace, but just found a very empty hallway. He didn’t know what he was expecting, really. It’s not like the guy would just manifest out of thin air every hour. He had to get tired or go home at some point.</p><p>Or maybe he finally caught the hint that Killua wasn’t interested in talking.</p><p>Which he wasn’t. So, that would be good.</p><p>He tapped his pen against the deep mahogany and huffed the hair from his eyes. It was so quiet, all he could hear was his window rattling with the afternoon breeze. The sounds of rush hour wafting up from the streets.</p><p>For the first time all day, Killua was bored.</p><p>There was no one bursting through his door to annoy the crap out of him . . . and it was nauseating. Gon’s chipper voice drained the monotony out of a day behind stacks of contracts and paperwork.</p><p>But, he got the hint. Which was what Killua wanted.</p><p>His phone buzzed and he all but leapt across the desk for it, before realizing Gon didn’t have his number.</p><p>. . . And it was a Boss Baby meme from Leorio.</p><p>Killua’s eye twitched. If he didn’t leave the office immediately, he would be arrested for strangling the suited bastard, so he slid his bag over his shoulder and called it a day.</p><p>An hour of traffic later, Killua dropped onto his bed like a deadweight, mentally preparing himself to grab his Switch from the side table and spend the night playing <em> Fire Emblem </em>. But instead he found himself staring at his phone again, wondering if Gon’s night out was as awful as he’d thought it would be.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Gon returned to a piece of paper taped to the door.</p><p>Scrawled across it in cursive was, “New plans. Will text you when I’m collecting my owed club night. Club attire in your closet.” </p><p>Gon shrugged and made his way inside, ready to break out the nacho kit and bury himself in his couch to watch Animal Planet.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>don't mind me, I'm just thriving. this whole chapter was basically me having way too much fun with this AU and piling on the buildup XD.</p><p>I hope you liked it, lemme know what you think!^^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. taking the long way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the bop: <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/7260i1Xv7MfmZk1LZD2LiV?si=M78VEKUISdysjdEU8ojnew">Long Way - LeyeT</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>K</strong>illua padded across the kitchen in his pj's, swiped his hot chocolate from the counter and nearly melted into it. Strands of morning sun seeped through the blinds and wrapped around him, shrouding the room in a yellow glow.</p><p>He peeked at the oven clock. <em> 9:45am </em>. Work had definitely started by now.</p><p>The ever-exuberant Gon Freecss was a creature of habit, and would be swinging into his office any minute. And while everyone else in the company knew Killua’s typical MO, Gon was out of the loop, a fresh-faced noob who thought Killua was some all-accessible being. He could practically see the man’s forehead scrunching up, his mind flitting through the possibilities: was Killua playing hooky, home playing games, bundled up in bed sick?</p><p>The image sent a strangle ripple of satisfaction through his chest.</p><p>Also a tinge of guilt. But it was no big deal. He didn’t have to like, reach out to Leorio and check in on the office or anything . . . right? Killua glanced briefly at his phone.</p><p>No, everything was probably fine.</p><p>It’s not like him staying home was out of the ordinary; him <em> going to work </em>was out of the ordinary. Killua never stepped foot in that building unless it was absolutely necessary.</p><p>This past week he just . . . had to make sure all the pieces of this project fell together without any fuck-ups. That’s all. It was the most important game of the year—so, duh, he’d have to spend more time managing all the doofuses involved.</p><p>Looking at 150+ Pinterest plants with Gon was just part of the deal.</p><p>Nose tucked into his mug, Killua smiled. Fuckin’ Freecss and his obsession with green shit. There were 12 plants currently being shipped to his office and the man already bribed Cynthia with puppy-dog eyes to help him arrange them “before Killua says they suck and sends them back.”</p><p>That was just one day ago—the day Killua almost slipped up.</p><p>And maybe, possibly the reason he decided to stay home today.</p><p>Gon had been saying something along the lines of “it’ll make me the happiest game concept in the world if you just cave on this” and a bunch of animated ramblings about plants bringing freshness and positivity to his life, some anecdotes starring his Aunt Mito, ending off with a flourishing “I swear, it’ll brighten your space.”</p><p>To which Killua almost, <em> almost </em>blurted out “you brighten it enough as is.”</p><p>It was horrifying.</p><p>Imagine if those words actually came out of his mouth? He shuddered just thinking about it, chocolate sloshing dangerously. He’d never live it down. That—that walking onslaught of sunshine would never forget it, would cling to it, cling to him.</p><p>. . . That actually didn’t sound so bad. But Killua had a reputation to upkeep, he couldn’t just go around saying wildly romantic things to every handsome guy that barged into his office (out of the, you know, 0 amounts of handsome guys that barged into his office).</p><p>Killua grimaced. </p><p>Or, maybe, he couldn’t say those things for different reasons.</p><p>Because nothing in this world had equipped Killua to meet someone like Gon Freecss. Because in every capacity, he was too bright, too kind, too overwhelming. Just looking at the guy was enough to give him an asthma attack, so how the hell was he supposed to do—whatever the hell it was they were leaning towards?</p><p>How was he supposed to react to all the fairy dust and daydreams fluttering in the air, settling in Gon’s eyes, drenching him in nerves?</p><p>Also, what if it was all in his head? The guy was friendly to everyone who breathed—he had compliments locked and loaded, remembered weirdly specific facts about everyone’s personal life, and gave out gifts like a year-round Christmas elf. What if he was just being nice, and Killua was overthinking all the lingering glances, awed smiles, casually flexed arms?</p><p>He wanted to throw his mug into the sink. </p><p>He couldn’t <em> do </em>this shit.</p><p>But it was fine, it would be okay, because today he would get some air. He would cocoon himself in fuzzy blankets and the relief of his own apartment, the relief of solitude. The relief of not having that heart-attack of a man smile him into emotional oblivion. </p><p>He took a hefty gulp of the steaming liquid chocolate, grounding himself in his quiet surroundings.  </p><p>Killua’s loft was an ultimate loner’s sanctuary. Clean, simple, every drawer stacked with chocolate, fridge piled with pre-made meals that Leorio ordered on some online chef nonsense (because apparently the human body can’t function off just candy).</p><p>But his main base of operations lay elsewhere.</p><p>Killua moved towards the bedroom and nudged his walk-in closet door open with a shoulder. He’d lived here for a few years now, so he was no longer in awe of the high ceilings and mass amounts of clothing. Instead, he locked on to the thick pastel sweaters (that Alluka knitted for him at any given opportunity) and slid them to the side.</p><p>Tucked safely behind them was an electric blue handprint. Killua pressed his palm flat against it, feeling the telltale tingle of the scanner. And with a beep of satisfaction, the wall carved open into an elevator.</p><p>He grinned and stepped in. Even in his early twenties, the childlike thrill of having a secret hideout slapped him upside the face every time he opened the door.</p><p>Except instead of tree houses and blanket forts, he had what could be compared to an action-hero lair. </p><p>Killua strolled past the assassin weapons that lined the walls in glass cases, turned past every game console ever created, cut through a comic library, and passed the entrance to his second bedroom and mini-kitchen, before finally arriving at the center of the room. Neatly arranged on his desk was a lineup of computers glowing blue, blinking to life from his presence.</p><p>The place was goddamn bliss.</p><p>Killua plopped into his chair and set his phone to the side, upside down and far enough away (to snuff any urges to text anyone for Gon-related updates).</p><p>Today he’d get some real work done.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Gon ruffled at his hair, swallowing a noise of frustration.</p><p>His wheely chair creaked as he pushed himself in slow circles, not-so-patiently waiting for Knuckle and Zushi to return from another storyline meeting.</p><p>Killua wasn’t even there today, but he was still clouding up his mind and bursting from his ears. All he could think about was Killua, Killua, Killua. Was he okay, why wasn’t he at work today, why did Cynthia look relieved enough to collapse, and would she be relieved enough to tell Gon any Killua-related secrets, etc. etc.</p><p>But, if he were honest, the most prevalent question on his mind had nothing to do with any of those things. Something else had been bugging him all week, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.</p><p>It was just plain weird.</p><p>Not the usual doses of weird that came from his buddies in the design room, but the kind of weird that crawled under Gon’s skin and made him want to shake out his limbs like a half-assed hokey pokey.</p><p>Because Killua was—<em> alight </em>. </p><p>Not in a literal luminescence or a he-swallowed-Tinkerbell kind of way, but his energy was <em> alive </em>. Just yesterday Gon had watched him at the meeting podium, commanding respect with sharp eyes and blunt words.</p><p>He was amplified compared to the rest of the room. His presence, his energy, the way he carried himself. And his words just—they hit with unrivaled impact. They reverberated in his chest. Lingered in the air.</p><p>It had been the official acceptance of Zushi’s proposal, where Killua laid out loose plans and deadlines for each team. Gon should have been listening in, maybe even taking notes, but instead he found himself absorbed in the man’s every movement. Searching to pinpoint something, anything out of the ordinary.</p><p>Which was difficult, since everything about Killua was out of the ordinary.</p><p>It was what drew Gon to him in the first place, and what made it hard for him to focus on things like thinking or breathing. Which were two things he definitely needed to put a finger on what was amiss.</p><p>It was just, his <em> energy </em>— </p><p>Gon’s eyes widened.</p><p>
  <em> Energy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The yoyo story. </em>
</p><p>It couldn’t be Nen, right?</p><p>His wheely chair twirl picked up in speed, catching the concerned stares of employees passing in the hall.</p><p>Killua wasn’t a hunter, and the man was too perceptive to have that much power without noticing.</p><p>But, then again, the average person didn’t know Nen as much more than the super-skill or strength of hunters, usually assumed to be due to secret weapons or intense training. Zushi only knew about it because of his training under Wing, and Knuckle only knew anything because of Zushi.</p><p>But for Gon to be able to feel such sheer power in that meeting, from across the room, completely untapped within Killua? It would have to be an impossible, insane amount of Nen.</p><p>He slid his water bottle from the desk, throat suddenly dry.</p><p>His mind flashed to Killua pointing at Leorio and saying something snarky. The wave of vibrations he’d felt roll under his skin.</p><p>The guy was straight up debilitating.</p><p>He chugged the bottle until it was crumpled remains and dropped his head onto the desk. The air of mystery—along with Killua being absent from work that morning—would make Gon’s Friday unbearable.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Zushi and Knuckle were also having an unbearable Friday, but their suffering was entirely Gon-induced.</p><p>Zushi stared between his pen, Gon, his pen again, and Gon again. The hero had been entirely zoned out since Zushi’s return from the storyline meeting, ruminating up in his endless clouds of imagination. Zushi mindlessly poked at him with the pen, hoping for eventual acknowledgement.</p><p>“Gon, gimme something, anything,” he pleaded, all dark-ringed eyes and fizzled out hope.</p><p>Gon blinked over at his friend, taken aback by the shriveled ghost of a Zushi sitting beside him. “Oh God, are you okay?”</p><p>“We need some backstory,” Zushi insisted. “Any backstory. Anything at all. I’ll take an essay on your deepest emotions about the human booger if I have to. I’ll make it work.”</p><p>“Zushi isn’t picky,” Knuckle confirmed, wiggling a suggestive finger in the air.</p><p>Zushi snorted and held out a feeble fist for Knuckle to bump. “Solid uplifting booger pun, my pal.”</p><p>“What’s happening right now?” Gon laughed, looking between them. “I don’t have deep emotions on the human booger. I mean, I guess I’d say they should be picked in the privacy of our own apartments . . .”</p><p>“True that. Privacy is key to booger-related activities,” Knuckle nodded again, scribbling away on his tablet.</p><p>Zushi wiggled a lifeless finger in the air in solidarity.</p><p>“As much as I’d love to dive into this booger bit with you guys right now, I’m a little confused. I thought I already gave you the plotline this week. Did I miss something?” Gon asked, eyes wide and unassuming.</p><p>Zushi wanted to take his fist (the one he’d recently lifted for bumping purposes) and redirect it at himself for his first ever facebump.</p><p>Because this guy was clueless.</p><p>It had been one week, one whole week of trying to crack the surface of Gon’s thoughts and feelings. Which was totally crazy, seeing as he was a blabbermouth open book about everything in the world.</p><p>At least, that’s what Zushi and Knuckle had thought. But as they reached the begging stage of desperation, they realized Gon was actually, possibly the most closed-off person they had ever met. </p><p>Stories about chasing frogs into the depths of the forest? They had twelve. Tales about the 74 species he’d saved from poachers and extinction? Immaculate. Mob bosses, drug cartels, and underground hunter fighting rings? He’d busted over 30. Each.</p><p>They had enough minor missions and bosses for a 3-game series by the second day of interviews.</p><p>But the most important part of the game—Gon’s emotions?</p><p> They had nothing.</p><p>“Didn’t I?” Gon repeated, waving his hands to break Zushi’s blank stare. “How my father left to be a hunter, I set off to become a hunter too and track him down, found him, then switched gears to taking on my own missions? All that stuff?”</p><p>“That’s literally all you’ve told us.”</p><p>Gon leaned back in his chair, big amber eyes blinking with confusion. “Isn’t that all there is to it? It’s pretty straightforward. Greed Island, NGL, the whole schtick.”</p><p>“We do have all that, yeah . . .” Zushi sighed, trying to explain, “but like you gave us a CliffsNotes version, you know what I mean? A snippet from the outside. A summary. To make a game from your point of view . . . we need <em> your point of view </em>,” he stressed, flapping his hands for emphasis.</p><p>At Gon’s blank face, he sighed again and started, “We need something <em> more </em> . . . how do I put this—”</p><p>“Interesting, real, deep,” Neon droned from beside them, ingrained in her tablet and barely paying attention. “Not a boring and depthless hero boy skipping through the forbidden forest and slicing up bug royalty.”</p><p>Gon grimaced and scratched at the back of his head. “I guess I can see what you mean. I think?”</p><p>“Wait, really?” A sliver of hope lit up Zushi’s eyes.</p><p>Gon sucked in a deep breath that puffed out his cheeks. “No, not really. I’m sorry. Can you guys be a little more specific?”</p><p>At this, the last straw had been officially pulled—and Zushi’s head plummeted to the table, arms and hands splayed out like a pile of graphic designer roadkill. Knuckle looked down at his hands, as if he could summon strength from the finger gods.</p><p>Gon patted Zushi’s back. “Please don’t metaphorically die again. I’m sorry, Zush. I’ll tell you the whole thing all over again and try to give more details.” </p><p>Neon’s bright blue eyes emerged from her art to snipe him from two tables over. And before anyone else could, she cut in, “It’s not details that we need. We just need your feelings, dude. All of them. We need them raw and we need them in our faces, so we can shove those feelings into our consumers’ faces so they <em> understand </em> you and love you and buy our game and make us rich.”</p><p>Zushi cleared his throat and turned his head so he was facing the group, cheek squished against the table, arms still splayed out. “To put that in a more detailed and <em> less self-motivated sense </em> . . .” he said, shooting a pointed look at Neon, “we need to know more than the battles. We need to know what you <em> felt </em> in those battles, what made them worth fighting <em> to you </em>, what made you head out at friggin’ 12 years old to take the most deadly test ever, and then the most deadly missions ever? There’s a lot of emotion there to unpack.”</p><p>“A lot of info from the guy with the smushed face, but sure. What he said too,” Neon nodded, returning to her work.</p><p><em> Oh. </em> Gon took a deep breath through his teeth, what they were asking for finally clicking.</p><p>He set his gaze on the wall behind them and let his mind brush the surface of what they were looking for. Discomfort panged in his chest. He saw his father’s scruffy-faced, awkward smile when Gon had found him completely by accident—the way the man’s eyes darted to locate exits, as if Gon was the last person he’d expected or wanted to see, after he’d <em> searched for him across the entire world. </em> </p><p>After he’d almost <em> died </em>. Trying to find him.</p><p>He remembered the burning in his chest that told him he was unwanted, the voice in the back of his head whispering all the ways in which he wasn’t good enough to be loved, even by the people who were supposed to love him.</p><p>He remembered the smile he’d plastered on his face because he couldn’t process what was happening. Because he’d been through hell. And he’d accomplished his goal: he found his father.</p><p>But it changed nothing, and he was still so angry.</p><p>He knew now what it meant to be a hunter. Growing up, he thought it had to have been something so brilliantly amazing and important, important enough to have been a good reason to leave him. </p><p>It wasn’t.</p><p>He felt a familiar heat rise into his chest now, fists tightening.</p><p>No. No, no, no. He shook his head and thought of Mito, her warm smiles and hugs, her reassurances that she felt so lucky to be his mom—and took another deep breath.</p><p>“Uh,” he gulped, eyes reconnecting with his friends’, “Do you really want the game to be that—”</p><p>“Good?” Neon supplied dryly.</p><p>Zushi lifted his face to glower at her, and then scooted his chair between her and Gon to block off the commentary—but Gon just brushed it off with a not-so-convincing laugh. “I was going to say upsetting.”</p><p> Zushi and Knuckle gave him thoughtful looks. “Upsetting” was the last word they’d use to describe the human avalanche of sunshine sitting in front of them.</p><p>“Pain drives passion,” Neon’s voice carried from behind Zushi, clicking her tongue.</p><p>Zushi blinked. “Yeah. That’s—a little darker than the pep talk I was aiming for, but yeah. What she said.”</p><p>Knuckle followed up carefully, “People die taking that crazy exam. I can’t imagine it’s something someone would take on without heavy reasons.”</p><p>Gon nodded a lot between all of them, mustering up a smile. “No, I get it, I totally get it. You guys are right. It’s just kinda hard for me to . . . could I think it over a bit, if that’s okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, dude, totally,” Knuckle said and dropped a big warm hand on his shoulder. “Take your time, we’ll cover for ya with the team.”</p><p>Zushi nodded along. “Totally! I mean, next Thursday is the <em> rough deadline, </em>but—”</p><p>Knuckle sniped an elbow into Zushi’s side without breaking his supportive smile or eye contact with Gon.</p><p>“But we,” Zushi wheezed, throwing a thumb up, “can totally cover for you. Take all the time you need.” He winced and rubbed at his aching hip.</p><p>Gon gave an appreciative smile, chest tense, and hopped up to “go to the bathroom” aka Killua’s office, for the sixth time that day. He hoped maybe, just maybe he came into work late. After the knife of emotions shoved into his chest, he could really use seeing Killua’s face right about now. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Killua peeked down at his phone for the five-hundredth time that hour.</p><p>He probably wasn’t missing anything; nothing happened at work. Ever. At least nothing important enough for him to deal with a text to Leorio that he would never live down.</p><p>The “nothing happened at work ever” thought brought to his imagination the absolute dystopian havoc somelike like Gon Freecss could wreak in one unsupervised day. His eyes twitched.</p><p>An office full of succulents, vending machines full of fruit, Cynthia taking the day off instead of gathering the files he needed, Gon trying to put them together in her place, Gon setting his office on fire, the fire spreading at magnificent speeds due to all the flammable plants . . .</p><p>Maybe, maybe Gon missing him.</p><p>He peeked at his phone again, said “fuck it” and let his itchy fingers finally send a message.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><b>KZ:</b> Need updates on the project.</p>
  <p><b>Leorio Pal: </b>Who is this??</p>
  <p><b>KZ:</b> Utilize your brain cells.</p>
  <p><b>Leorio Pal:</b> Oh shit, hey twerp, you never text me!</p>
  <p><b>Leorio Pal:</b> Project sucks. I’m watching the dorks try to get info out of Gon. Not going well</p>
  <p><b>KZ:</b> ? But he never <em> stops </em> talking.</p>
  <p><b>Leorio Pal:</b> Yeah, apparently he’s emotionally stunted</p>
  <p><b>Leorio Pal:</b> I don’t think they even know I’m here. Am I really that invisible???</p>
  <p><b>KZ: </b>Christ. And yes.</p>
  <p><b>Leorio Pal:</b> ...Did your parents never teach you to console your friends -.-</p>
  <p><b>KZ:</b> I think the phrase is *respect your elders. And no, I’m emancipated.</p>
  <p><b>Leorio Pal:</b> I was going to be mad at you but now I just feel bad</p>
  <p><b>KZ:</b> If you feel bad, then restock my chocolate drawer.</p>
  <p><b>KZ:</b> ...And help with the Gon thing.</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Satisfied, Killua dropped the phone to the table again.</p><p>Emotionally stunted, huh? Surprising, but, if he really thought about it, while Gon had plenty to ramble about . . . there was nothing of like, really deep substance. All jokes, smiles, funny anecdotes. No personal info. No comments on anyone except his aunt. No personal complaining or venting. No feelings expressed except when observing/worrying about others.</p><p>Huh. </p><p>Killua winced to himself. Maybe he should have gone into work today after all.</p><p>But he really needed this, and emotions aside he actually had a lot of work to get done for the game. And he was going to get through it without worrying or being curious about Gon if it killed him.</p><p>Leorio would take care of things.</p><p>Killua snorted. Okay, no, Leorio couldn’t take care of anything. But at least he cared enough about people to meddle efficiently.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Once Zushi thumbsed up that Gon was down the hallway and out of sight, he jogged back to their station and rubbed his hands together. “Okay, time to brainstorm. Commence plotting.”</p><p>Knuckle grinned knowingly and tossed his stylus to the table, as if it were useless trash in comparison to the task at hand. “Of course, we gotta help our bro on his emotional journey.”</p><p>“Heck yeah. So, it’ll take him 15 minutes to check Killua’s office, have a chat with Cynthia, and then actually go to the bathroom so he comes back with clean, wet hands for his alibi.”</p><p>“Respect. He’s a dedicated dude.”</p><p>“He is,” Zushi affirmed, fumbling around his drawer. “Okay, as soon as I find the thing, I’m gonna set a timer—he’ll be back pretty fast because Killua is definitely not there.”</p><p>Actually, Zushi squinted to himself—Killua was <em> never </em>there.</p><p>Now that he thought about it, this week was the most he’d seen Killua at work all year, since he got hired. The guy operated almost entirely from home. He was an antisocial genius, creating characters and entire worlds solo. Sure, he’d pop in once or twice a month for important meetings, but for the rest of the stuff he was just a voice on the conference speaker.</p><p>Until Gon.</p><p>He wondered if maybe—no. Killua Zoldyck couldn’t possibly— </p><p>“So what do ya got?” Knuckle nodded toward Zushi, who was entirely zoned out with the watch he was searching for grasped in his hand.</p><p> He shook the ridiculousness from his head and fiddled with the watch. They were on a time limit.</p><p>“Okay, so the guy is totally closed off. How does one solicit honest intel from a friend about things they wouldn’t normally be comfortable talking about?” he asked aloud, forehead scrunched in thought.</p><p>Knuckle mimicked his friend’s thoughtful pose and said simply, “No clue, I don’t really ask people stuff they don’t want to tell.”</p><p>“Yeah, and we don’t wanna, like, make him uncomfortable. So we have to find a way to coax him into comfortability. A way to make him feel more at ease,” Zushi surmised, head in his palm, eyes squinted.</p><p>A large sigh dragged their attention to someone they didn’t notice was in the area. Leorio swatted the pen from Zushi’s fingertips as he passed and said, “Alcohol, kids. Always alcohol.”</p><p>Zushi’s first instinct was to pick up the pencil and snipe it at the man—but then the duo turned to each other, faces alight, little cartoon light bulbs dangling over their heads.</p><p>
  <em> Alcohol. </em>
</p><p>So when Gon made his entrance a few minutes later, looking a bit deflated (confirming once again that Killua hadn’t come in today), he found his two friends sporting gigantic suspicious grins.</p><p>“. . . Hey guys, what’d I miss?” he asked cautiously, looking between their gleaming faces.</p><p>“We’ve been talking, and we think we could use a boys night out,” Zushi announced. He nudged Knuckle to offer his own words of support.</p><p>“Yup, we’ve been cooped up in here all week and I could use a party night,” Knuckle agreed, then brightened upon realizing another compelling argument, “Plus I’ve been dying for you guys to meet Uvo! He works at the club nearby. So we could get in for zero cash casualty.”</p><p>Gon visibly twitched at the word “club,” ready to turn and bolt from his friends’ hopeful faces. Why did everyone he knew want to drag him to the club? Clubs aren’t even fun! You can’t hear anyone, you sweat buckets, and you’re cramped in a confined space with zero fresh air.</p><p>Also, Gon’s natural instinct in any given environment is to climb, and alcohol completely eliminates the little voice in his head that reminds him “you’re indoors, do <em> not </em> climb that pillar” or “people will recognize you, do <em> not </em>climb onto that stage and belt pop punk anthems.”</p><p>Yeah, he should definitely make a run for it. But ugh, he looked back to their cute expectant faces and plopped down into his chair. </p><p>. . . Then, a genius idea sprung up. </p><p>Gon shrugged casually and admitted, “. . . I guess I <em> do </em> owe Kurapika a night out.” He eyed the two men, seeing if his fiendish approach would make them retract their suggestion.</p><p>Horror flickered across their faces, but it quickly evolved into fearful grins. They were determined. “Yeah, sure, sounds good,” Zushi agreed through his teeth.</p><p>“Yup, any bro of our bro is more than welcome,” Knuckle added, also holding his smile strong through the storm.</p><p>Gon squinted his eyes. Okay then.</p><p>“That’s awesome, thanks guys! But,” he sighed, “I dunno, it still seems like a pretty small group for a guys night out. And it’s a really good opportunity to get to know more people, since I’m so new. . . oh, shit, I know, we should invite Killua too!” he grinned, slapping his knee in “realization,” looking innocently at the two men whose expressions had become even more stale.</p><p>“You mean, our boss?” Zushi asked without blinking. “Like, reach out to him personally? And ask him to come out to a club on a Friday night—on a day that he didn’t even come into work?”</p><p>“Yeah!” Gon nodded, proud of his sudden bout of deviousness, knowing they were reaching their limits. “But I totally get it if you aren’t comfortable. You probably don’t have his number or anything.”</p><p>“We could ask Leorio,” Knuckle shrugged without thinking, then cleared his throat and slapped Zushi’s arm. “I mean, Zushi could ask Leorio. And hook it up for ya.” He pointed to a twitching Zushi beside him.</p><p>“Oh no, no no,” Zushi insisted with an especially ‘affectionate’ punch to Knuckle’s arm. “I’d love to ask with you by my side, Knuck. Two is better than one. Can’t split up the dynamic duo.”</p><p>“Of course,” Gon nodded firmly, “never met a duo more dynamic. This will be awesome!” He continued nodding, to himself, almost surprised that his last-minute plotting was so fortuitous. </p><p>But in his defense, he couldn’t just <em> agree </em> to the club without some perks. He and the club always ensured disaster, so the least he could do is knock out a few birds with one stone: eliminate his debt to Kurapika, appease his new friends, and (most importantly) score some off-the-clock facetime with his favorite fluffy-headed CEO.</p><p>He leaned back into his chair, beaming. Everything was falling into place.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Zushi and Knuckle were wheezing with regret.</p><p>They’d parted with Gon and were walking ever so slowly around the corner that led to Leorio’s office. The rest of the design team was off inhaling mini-pizzas at the cafeteria, while they were on the worst mission they’d received all year.</p><p>Staring out at their final destination, Knuckle dropped a comforting hand on Zushi’s shoulder and said, “For the good of the game.”</p><p>Zushi nodded solemnly. “For the good of the game.”</p><p>“What are you two knumbskulls doing?”</p><p>Both men leapt into the ceiling tiles, and then turned carefully to find Leorio’s narrow face blinking at them. In his left hand was a Hooters To-Go bag, and in his right was a tiny paper umbrella—so they could only assume he was returning from his daily lunch locale that he was way too proud to be a patron of.</p><p>“Ah, Mr. Paladiknight! Hello!” Zushi greeted, whipping out a 100-Watt smile. </p><p> “Hello, sir,” Knuckle added quickly. “How was your lunch?”</p><p>Leorio gave a sly smile and replied, “You know how it is, fried chicken and beautiful ladies who love a guy with a suitcase.” He patted his leather companion adoringly, not-so-subtly looking to the two young men for acknowledgement.</p><p>“Wow that’s so cool,” Zushi said loudly, as if pure volume would help him feign excitement.</p><p>Luckily, Leorio was gullible when it came to hearing the words he wanted to hear. “So, what can I do ya for? Were you two looking for me for some sage adult wisdom?” he asked, tucking the little umbrella into the bag.</p><p>Both men swallowed their snorts, as guffawing in his face would blow their cover.</p><p>Knuckle managed, “Yes, actually we have a very important . . . task given to us by Mr. Zoldyck. He told us to report right to him and—and, uh . . .”</p><p>“It looks like he’s not here today!” Zushi cut in for Knuckle, who’d lost his liar’s resolve. Knuckle huffed out a thankful breath. “And we figured since you’re, you know, the most important guy in the building when Mr. Zoldyck is absent, that you would have his number?”</p><p>Perfection.</p><p>Zushi’s head burst with self-applause as Leorio’s chest puffed with pride. He had never told such an efficiently manipulative lie in his life. He could feel Wing’s seething disapproval all the way from the studio, but it didn’t matter because he . . . had managed to manipulate the most easily manipulated individual in the office.</p><p>Okay, when he put it that way it wasn’t as exciting, but still. He’d take a win where he got one.</p><p>“Of course I do! I’ve been texting the cranky kid all morning,” Leorio said, draping his arms around both of their shoulders, ushering them toward his office. “Come on in, come on in, I have all the info you could ever need on everyone in the company.”</p><p>Zushi squeaked, “Oh wow, uh, just Mr. Zoldyck’s number is fine! We wouldn’t want to trouble you with all that.”</p><p>“Pfff nonsense, nonsense,” Leorio waved a dismissive hand, “you’ve come for wisdom and I’m not the kinda man to shortchange his favorite employees.”</p><p>They looked back toward the hallway with pleading eyes before accepting their fate. This is what he got for lying, Zushi sighed to himself. He shot Gon a quick text, as it would likely be a few hours before they could escape.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Killua jolted awake, his keyboard clattering to the desk and leaving little cubic indents across his cheek. He rubbed at his nose and face and checked the time.</p><p><em> 4:00pm </em>. Shit. He fell asleep.</p><p>He’d spent the day finalizing a list of contracts for high-skill developers and designers, since he was trying to up the manpower and graphics for Freecss’s game. A few replies had already popped up in his inbox (a few of the more minor players), but he was still waiting on the most important response.</p><p>A renowned genius with code and design, she created massive indie projects from the solitude of her own apartment (something Killua could deeply resonate with). She blatantly refused to work on any team, shooting down offers from all of Killua’s competitors.</p><p>No one knew what she looked like or how to reach her. It took Killua a fortune and an unpleasant call with Milluki to even get a hold of her email.</p><p>She went by the alias Something.</p><p>God, it was so badass, and he wanted her on his team even if it scorched his funds. Today’s email doubled his original offer; he hoped that would be enough to at least warrant an email back to begin negotiations.</p><p>Killua brushed off his basketball shorts, content with his big boy moves. Seconds later, his cell blinked with the promise of new messages, and he unlocked it with bleary eyes, breath unpleasantly stale from his nap.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><b>Unknown Sender: </b>You really don’t know how to take a hint.</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>His stomach dropped, reality squashing all bleariness and self-satisfaction. Irritation encompassed him in its place.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><b>KZ:</b> Neither do you, seeing as I left your ass on read. Double-texting is a lame move. Are you new to this whole blackmailing thing?</p>
  <p><b>Unknown Sender:</b> I’m not here to exchange snarky banter. This is your final warning.</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>It was precisely then that Killua decided he’d had enough of this week. </p><p>His loft was blaringly large and safeguarded, there was no cute hero asking him what his favorite floral succulent was, and he was super cranky from falling asleep in a twisted position.</p><p>So, there was only one natural move.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><b>KZ:</b> Get fucked.</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Sometimes his own elegance left him in awe.</p><p>He chucked the phone across his desk, only for it to buzz to life again. He growled, ignoring what was surely the double-texting bastard at it again. He didn’t have time for that shit. He had work to do and feelings to distract himself from, goddamnit.</p><p>A few hours of work later, his computer wailed, urgent and blaring, and nearly knocked him out of his chair.</p><p>“What the—” </p><p>He quickly clicked open the program wielding all his security cameras (because a secret hideout is nothing without intense levels of security) and looked just in time to spot a man in a face mask breaching the entrance of his loft.</p><p>Killua rubbed at his eyes, to assure it wasn’t a chocolate fever dream and someone was actually breaking into his house.</p><p>The man slid from room to room. Young, slim, but built enough to promise a threat. Killua pulled his soda towards him and sipped away as the man cleared each room.</p><p>He wouldn’t find anything on the first level.</p><p>But he should probably do something anyway. After a few more sips and carefully watching the man’s movement and patterns, he started overhauling security: re-coding the front door to accept fingerprint access only, adjusting cameras.</p><p>He didn’t remove his gaze from the intruder for more than a second at a time. The guy continued through the apartment, clearly not finding what he was looking for in any of them. He ran gloved fingers along the lamps and undersides of tables (Killua made a mental note to screen the loft for bugging devices).</p><p>Ten minutes later, the man slid out the back door onto the balcony. And from there, hopped to the gate and climbed down to the streets below.</p><p>He didn’t seem to find what he was looking for.</p><p>Which could only mean: “he was looking for me,” Killua muttered to himself. “Fuck.”</p><p>It had to be the person behind all these threats, which told him three things:</p><ol>
<li>They worked quickly.</li>
<li>They had access to serious resources, and</li>
<li>Killua should probably start taking the offensive.</li>
</ol><p>He sighed and rubbed at his forehead. It was going to be a long night.</p><p>He would have to start from the beginning, with the texts. He reached for his phone to search what the asshole had sent him earlier (the messages he’d pointedly ignored) for any clues, and instead found messages from . . . Zushi? He blinked at his phone, wondering how and why the fuck.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Sorry, my bad!” Gon hopped back to just barely avoid colliding with someone. The man was way below his eyeline—a stocky little guy with a scruffy little face.</p><p>“It’s no problem, sir,” the man said with a broad and stale smile, tipping his hat and tugging his messenger bag up his shoulder.</p><p>Gon only wondered for a brief moment why a mailman would be at the office this late, before continuing down the hallway, practically bouncing off his toes because today—today he got everything he wanted.   </p><p>What was supposed to be a dreadful night at the club was now an opportunity (as long as Knuckle and Zushi were successful). They said they reached out and tried their best, and that was enough to fill his chest with a burning itch that could only be satiated by him skipping down the hallway like a maniac.</p><p>Because he might see Killua tonight.</p><p>Outside of work.</p><p>Just the two of them (plus three friends that could be easily shaken off amongst a crowd). A wide goofy smile spread into his cheeks as he imagined Killua’s white hair and sharp eyes locked on him under the colorful bursts of light.</p><p>“Hey, bro, wait up!” Knuckle called out, Zushi jogging beside him.</p><p>Gon turned to find his pals, his favorite people in the world, saviors of his bleak romantic life, trying to catch up to him from further down the hall. He threw his arms out and said, “Friends!”</p><p>The two guys laughed quizzically at Gon’s exuberance as they reached him.</p><p>“So, we’ve gotta drop by our apartments and get ourselves together. But when should we meet you?” Zushi asked, hands clutching his backpack straps.</p><p>“Kurapika said only losers leave the house before 10:30, so maybe come over by like 10?” Gon suggested, pushing the front door open to let them through first.</p><p>“It’s true,” Knuckle nodded, “At Uvo’s club, if you try to show up early they just shake their heads at you shamefully and send you away.”</p><p>“Oh God, really? What if someone’s just being punctual?”</p><p>Knuckle blinked at Zushi. “Is ‘punctual’ the kind of dude anyone wants to grind on at 3am?”</p><p>“. . . Gotcha. 10:30 it is,” Zushi affirmed.</p><p>The chill ruffled Gon’s hair and settled on his skin, thick like he’d waltzed into the freezer section of a grocery store. Zushi rubbed his hands together and made a “brr” noise with flappy lips. </p><p>“Well, I’ll be sure to text you my ETA when I head out.” Zushi waved his phone a little. “This is gonna be great!”</p><p>With a few more goodbyes, the other two shuffled towards the subway and Gon hopped onto his rented bike. Only now, in this moment, did he allow himself to acknowledge what he was subjecting himself to in order to have a night out with Killua.</p><p>Kurapika was probably back at his tiny hotel room right now, uncapping his waterproof eyeliner, preparing Gon’s doom. </p><p>He shuddered a bit. Was it worth it?</p><p>Killua, ideally, was sighing at his closet right now—the way he does when he’s not actually annoyed, but just acting cool. He could practically see the man’s eyelashes flutter over the decision to dress simple or go hard. Indecisive, adorable.</p><p>He imagined Killua walking into the scene, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking hot enough to murder a room full of Yorknew 20-somethings. Killua spotting him, making his way across the room. Killua smiling wickedly, saying something sharp that would echo in his head deep into the night as Gon stared at the ceiling and begged his eyes to close.</p><p>Or, if things went really well, maybe he wouldn’t go home at all.</p><p>Gon grinned widely, revving up his bike.</p><p>Definitely worth it. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey guys, I hope this chapter makes up for the wait! </p><p>This is the last dose of build-up before “guys night out,” I promise!!:) shit may or may not go down in Chapter 5, so I've been stacking my build-up bricks like a fiend.</p><p>Also, I won't lie, I originally didn’t plan for any heavy Leopika coverage, but I ended up writing a whole-ass chapter about their first outing (which, I personally died of laughter writing, so I’m super excited to share that soon.)</p><p>I’m deciding between integrating their story into this fic, OR (strongly considering) doing a sequel alongside this fic of what's going on in their sector of the story in their POV (basically, we'd see them in this fic only through Killua &amp; Gon's POV, but the rest would be in their sequel). I’m still on the fence, so feel free to drop your opinions/suggestions on that, and I’ll keep ya posted!!</p><p>That aside, I hope you liked the chapter:) lemme know what you think, I super appreciated all of your comments! I reread all of them multiple times because they were quite possibly the most in-depth, touching, and wonderful words I've ever set my sight balls on. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. dancing next to me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the bop: <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2VAanTPaOihruBcIsoQT1Z?si=LDZOleq5Qk695QfltaiFYw">dancing next to me - Greyson Chance</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>G</strong>on gulped, hand hovering over the door knob. There was about a 7% chance Kurapika was napping and hadn’t heard him step off the elevator, but Gon was an optimist.</p><p>Glass seven drops full, amirite?</p><p>Plus, he couldn’t turn back now—not just for the general that’s-where-he-lives reasons, but because he had actual goals tonight. Killua-centric goals. Goals that could score him some amazing, life-changing moments (or whatever the universe felt was necessary; expectations had to stay in check). </p><p>Gon sucked in a deep breath and shook his head; he would enter his own hotel room and he would do so fearlessly.</p><p>Because he was an <em> adult </em>.</p><p>Which is why—just after the knob clicked softly—Gon reached toe-first through the front door like a cartoon Grinch.</p><p>
  <em> “Ah!” </em>
</p><p>And he was swiftly nabbed by a set of hands that dragged him, yelping, into the bathroom. Kurapika plopped him on the toilet with enough force to casually shatter the average, Nen-less tailbone.</p><p>“Stay.” He pointed at Gon like he was a disobedient dog rather than his decade-long best friend.</p><p>Gon raised a wiseguy hand and glanced toward the exit. “And if I were to, hypothetically, <em> not </em> do that . . .” The toilet creaked as he leaned forward.</p><p>“Don’t even fucking try,” Kurapika jabbed a sleek finger into his shoulder. “Especially since you got here so slow. Slower than that disgusting, arthritic river toad you made me babysit last month.”</p><p>Gon leaned back into place and stuck his tongue out. “But you loved Percius!”</p><p>“He was gross and I left him at that Wawa on purpose. Now close your eyes, we only have four minutes to test eyeliner,” Kurapika demanded, flipping open and expanding a bulky makeup box.</p><p>“You went back to get him the second we got in the car,” Gon reminded him as he leaned forward.</p><p>“Untrue. I forgot my energy drink inside and he was coincidentally perched on it,” Kurapika huffed. “You know I can’t stay awake for more than six consecutive hours without caffeine.”</p><p>Gon laughed and Kurapika swatted his arm with a “stay still, you gremlin.”</p><p>“But don’t you have like, a full stock of caffeine in your trunk?”</p><p>“Ugh not anymore, it ran out before work today. I was going to PTFO in the lounge to make up for it, but the strangest shit went down and I wasn’t about to miss any tea,” the blonde replied.</p><p>Gon peeked one curious eye open. “Was it worth?”</p><p>Kurapika grabbed a q-tip and almost stabbed that eye out, continuing casually, “Not at first. Just a new guy who came to my boss for hires this morning; nothing crazy, just basic grunt work to uh, influence a target.”</p><p>Gon blinked blankly and repeated, “Which was nothing crazy.”</p><p>“Yeah, the strange part was that he came in person, with nothing covering his face, and gave his actual full name. It’s like the guy’s never done an underground deal with dangerous criminals before.” Kurapika tsked. “Oh to be young again.”</p><p>Gon just stared at him. “I feel like I should definitely ask you what you’re up to more often.”</p><p>“Says the guy who almost blew himself up playing rock paper scissors his whole childhood,” Kurapika retorted with one last flourish of the eyeliner. “I think you take the win for concerning behavior.”</p><p>“Touche,” Gon grinned. “But now I only do concerning things like, once a month!”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, but that once-a-month is enough to give me a heart attack, thanks,” Kurapika said dryly.</p><p>Gon’s smile widened, then gained a smug little edge. “Am I allowed to breathe slash move yet?”</p><p>“If you must,” Kurapika shrugged (with an expression like 10 degrees away from actual fondness) and threw an outfit into his lap. One quick-change later, he was hopping over to the mirror.</p><p>“Oh my God.”</p><p>“You’re welcome.”</p><p>Gon blinked profusely, reeling at the unfamiliar person staring back at him. His spikes were styled back loosely, face flushed in a way that appeared entirely natural. And he was donning cargos, a leather jacket, and beneath it a loose white tank that was cut deeply into the sides.</p><p>Very, very deeply.</p><p>He turned his perfectly accentuated eyes to Kurapika and wheezed, “If I bend over even a little, you can see my nipples.”</p><p>“May I remind you, you spent the last seven—I repeat, <em> seven </em>—years shirtless,” Kurapika noted flatly as he re-configured his belongings. “Where’d all your shiny, youthful confidence go?”</p><p>“It—I—we were <em> training </em>, that was different!”</p><p>“And today you’re training to pick up hot guys,” Kurapika shrugged, “I see no difference.” He stepped beside Gon to mess with his own hair.</p><p>  “They’re gonna think I’m a fuckboy.” Gon’s eyes were grave as he tugged at his friend’s sleeve. “A <em> fuckboy </em>. My vibe is charming and handsome and you know it! There’s no room for fuckboy energy in this good Christian apartment.”</p><p>“I don’t see why you can’t be charming and handsome <em> and </em>half-naked in public.”</p><p>“Kurapika!” Gon gaped with a laugh, pulling his jacket closed. “There’s an air of assumed innocence to my vibe.”</p><p>Kurapika snorted, “Sorry to break it to you, but there is nothing innocent about your vibe. That flew out the window after the Calvin Klein calendar where one page said, and I quote, ‘Freecy Fall’.”</p><p>Gon smiled contentedly to himself and nodded. “It was indeed a freaky fall.”</p><p>“Yeah, you ate spaghetti and nachos daily and still kept up an eight-pack. Like a monster,” Kurapika shot back. “But other than that you did zero freaky things. Now, stop whining and appreciate my masterful update to your existence.”</p><p>Gon nodded somberly to his friend’s reflection, halting whining as instructed. </p><p>His friend was a <em> little bit </em>right; Gon’s confidence was shaky tonight, consumed by this itchy anxiousness crawling in his chest. It was weird. Usually he’d just douse himself in deodorant, splash some water on his face and run out the door.</p><p>But tonight he didn’t want to just look good. He wanted to look really, really good.</p><p>Knock-Killua-off-his-feet good.</p><p>Which, once he got a another good look in the mirror, he realized he <em> did </em>.</p><p>“So what’s got your semi-exposed nipples in a twist?” Kurapika asked.</p><p>Gon glowered and in a moment of astute pettiness, swatted the comb from his friend’s hands to clatter into the sink. “You’ve gotta stop referencing them, I’m trying to enter a state of post-knowledge ignorance.”</p><p>Kurapika flipped out a middle finger as he grabbed for the comb.</p><p>Gon sighed and admitted, “Okay, so the thing is . . . I might have invited someone extra tonight.”</p><p>Kurapika hummed and said, “What kind of someone extra?”</p><p>“Just a guy that I work with,” Gon said with attempted disinterest.</p><p>But Kurapika sniffed the air dramatically, said “smells like bullshit” and smacked the back of his head.</p><p>“Crap—ow! Okay, <em> for </em> . A guy that I work <em> for </em>. Well, technically that everyone works for. Since he’s the CEO.” Gon gulped but shrugged to appear casual, not meeting his friend’s eyes.</p><p>Kurapika’s jaw dropped and he started to say “you little sh—” just as the doorbell sounded. Gon brightened and made a move to go for it, until he was shoved back onto the toilet.</p><p>“Stay,” the blonde threatened. “Keep your greasy nacho hands in your lap. Ruin nothing.” </p><p>“Today was pizza day,” Gon shot back, but then resigned, hands raised in give-uppance.</p><p>Kurapika stopped at the doorway with squinty eyes, and added, “These the chumps you invited out with us, or is the CEO of your company here too?”</p><p>“Just my chumps,” Gon assured and pressed his hands together. “You’ll love them, I promise!”</p><p>Kurapika waved off Gon with a “they wish” and made his way to the other room.</p><p>“Please be nice and not-scary!” Gon called, muffled from behind the half-closed bathroom door.</p><p>“I can’t smell you from there, which means you need more cologne,” Kurapika commanded in reply as he swung the front door open to find a very adorable nerd duo, standing there in what were probably the best outfits they owned.</p><p>One looked more party-familiar than the other—the taller, bulkier guy. The other was just a buzzcut noodle of a man who, at the sight of Kurapika, looked like his spirit left his body.</p><p>Oh, this was going to be fun.</p><p>Kurapika grinned. “Well, hello there.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Killua must have thrown his sanity to the wind, because this was the sixth time he texted Ikalgo in the span of 20 minutes.</p><p>He was, to be real, borderline frantic. He never went out, especially in giant crowded rooms with blasting music, especially in the proximity of someone he was (possibly) attracted to, especially without backup.</p><p>So he seriously needed his only friend to pull through and stop being so damn nonexistent.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><b>Killu: </b>I swear to god, if you make me text you a seventh time, I will delete every save file you have in every game in this house.</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> Aaaa sorry, was in a meeting!</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> Love the nerdy threats tho, pls don’t delete my Harvest Moon save. You have no idea how many fossils I had to give Nami for her to breathe in my general direction</p>
  <p><b>Killu:</b> Where the fuck have you been, dude?</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> I’ve just been working my butt off, doing my thing, you know me 😛 why so serious? </p>
  <p><b>Killu:</b> Because you’re annoying and I’m trying to invoke code red right now.</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro: </b>Oshit code red? </p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro: </b>Wait but you hate going places, seeing humans, drinking alcohol?? That’s the trifecta</p>
  <p><b>Killu:</b> ...It’s a work thing, kind of?</p>
  <p><b>Killu:</b> I thought you’d leap at me finally agreeing to get wasted.</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> You right you right lol</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> Caught me at a weird time with work, but I’ll try my best to get there!! Send over the address my dude</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Killua wasn’t used to this new era of distance between them. Since they were teenagers, Ikalgo had been tripping over his heels, dragging him out the door and forcing him to indulge in social crap.</p><p>And Killua could <em> really </em>use some of that infamous pestering as he stress-ate chocolate, staring at his closet like the side character of a bad romcom. He ended up pulling a plain sweater over his head, nodding at the mirror like someone who knew what they were doing.</p><p>Darkish jeans? Sure. Blue bomber jacket? Mentioned in a magazine last week, so that was a safe bet.</p><p>And . . . sneakers? He could wear sneakers to the club right?</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><b>Killu: </b>I have a question.</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> Yea you can wear sneakers 😛</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro: </b>But don’t you dare wear a pastel sweater with them, that’s virgin energy</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Killua’s face fell flat as he looked down at his pastel sweater. </p><p>“Is it more or less insulting because it’s true?” he mumble-whispered to himself, then quickly tugged it off to swap with a button-down, and checked himself out in the full ensemble. Then unbuttoned it a little, because he wasn’t a doofus. </p><p>This was no big deal. He just got home and threw something on, super casual and not at all an outfit that took 2 hours to coordinate.</p><p>One deep, stuttering breath and self-conscious hair ruffle later, he slipped out the door.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Your monster thighs take up all the seats, Gon. Couldn’t you have planned your insane physique around my Uber needs?” Kurapika huffed some hair from his eyes and glared forward. “I’ll be limping into the club.”</p><p>The design room gang was piled up in a small car, a tangle of limbs and curses. And Zushi was the worst off, though his all-encompassing anxiety had been effectively muffled by the liquor Kurapika poured down his throat back at the hotel, hissing “coward”.</p><p>“Says the guy with the <em> pointiest </em>little elbows,” Zushi sang, poking blindly at the blonde’s arm while ogling the passing of white traffic lines.</p><p>The Kurta’s face was dangerous as he slapped the drunk nerd’s hand away. “You’re hogging all the oxygen and fogging up the windows. Hold your breath.”</p><p>“For how long?” Zushi queried compliantly.</p><p>“Kurapika!” Gon whispered fiercely, knocking his leg against his spicy-worded friend. “He needs to breathe.”</p><p>“But <em> does </em>he though?” Kurapika asked right back.</p><p>“<em> Yes </em>.”</p><p>“I mean if you insist, but we’re almost there and I can’t see what kinda party crowd we’re dealing with through his window slobber.”</p><p>Knuckle reached back from the front seat and poked Zushi’s head away from the window, swiping it with his sleeve. “There ya go, have at it. Slobber free.”</p><p>“Thank you, Gon’s larger friend, that’s very civilized of you,” Kurapika said with a nod of appreciation. </p><p>“I try,” Knuckle laughed, seat practically bending as he leaned back (much to the driver’s concern).</p><p>“How did we end up on the list for this club, anyway? I’ve only been here for an . . . assignment or two,” Kurapika queried. Gon chose to ignore the sketchy second-half of that statement.</p><p>“Oh! I just called Uvo, he DJs there on the weekends,” Knuckle shot back.</p><p>Kurapika blinked at him. “You called your what?”</p><p>“Uvo. Boyfriend who got us all in free tonight,” Knuckle grinned over his shoulder proudly.</p><p>“Oh shit, gay comrade,” Kurapika said, offering Knuckle a lithe high five. “No wonder you picked this club, I thought Gon was going to finally admit something to me later.”</p><p>Knuckle’s laugh boomed through the car—the joke flying directly over Gon’s head and out the window.</p><p>“Admit what later?” the hero asked, shifting uncomfortably in his leather jacket.</p><p>The duo fell suspiciously silent until their eyes met and they started cackling all over again. Knuckle went in for another high five.</p><p>“Hey!” Gon complained, swatting down Kurapika’s prepped high-fiving hand. “No, <em> stop that </em>, what are you guys talking about?”</p><p>He wasn’t sure what to be more suspicious of: the fact that Kurapika was laughing and had just <em> high-fived </em> an actual person, or that they were acting so generically suspicious.</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll hit you at some point,” Kurapika waved him off, which only amped up Gon’s raging curiosity (and ultimate hatred of being out of the loop) more. </p><p>Knuckle snorted. Zushi hummed out the window and poked at the fog. The driver wheezed into his steering wheel in hopes that his passenger seat would remain intact.</p><p>And Gon pouted until they were falling out of the Uber, making their reckless way into the club (Knuckle having to chase Zushi into the street to keep him from touching the white lines on the road that he referred to as his “new comrades” since Knuckle had “abandoned him for the demon hunter”).</p><p>Kurapika found it all greatly amusing. “These friendships make sense for you,” he said simply.</p><p>“I know, right?” Gon’s cheeks bloomed with a smile as he ruffled his hair into form, and followed Kurapika into a room bursting with colors and bass. </p><p>He moved agiley through the stifling crowds that made him want to hop out of his skin, and up to the main bar. The rim of every surface glowed neon and wrapped from the back wall into the middle of the room, accentuating multiple stages.</p><p>He came to a full, shoe-squeaking halt when he realized that <em> on </em> those stages were throngs of half-naked firemen.</p><p>Which prompted him to look around and come to a second, subsequent realization, that the <em> entire room </em>was full of men.</p><p>Kurapika snatched his first drink from the bartender and raised his glass in a loud cheer for a fireman currently . . . de-strapping one side of his overalls—which led Gon to a third, particularly devastating realization:</p><p>
  <em> He’d invited Killua to a gay bar. </em>
</p><p>Killua, his boss.</p><p>Killua, the guy who he was trying to subtly flirt with. Key word: subtly.</p><p>He slapped his hands over his mouth as the other overall strap fell, and Zushi and Knuckle whooped alongside Kurapika, clinking glasses. He peeked down at his outfit. Then back up at the atmosphere.</p><p>Killua was definitely going to think he was a fuckboy now.</p><p>“Hey Gon, we gotta introduce you to someone!” Knuckle slapped a heavy hand against his back that jolted him to the present.</p><p>“To the stages!” Zushi shouted with a big, goofy smile. “You’re gonna love this guy’s dog, Gon, I’m tellin’ ya. That is one <em> good boy </em>.”</p><p>Gon choked on his laughter (and a few other emotions) as they started moving, taking hold of Zushi’s shirt sleeve to keep him from wandering off in the wrong direction.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The onslaught of club music gave Killua whiplash. Bass pounded in his blood, his corneas wailed beneath dancing lights, and he couldn’t spot Gon anywhere amongst the blur of irrelevant people. </p><p>“Everyone must already be at the bar,” he mumbled, giving his phone one last withering glance.</p><p>Somehow, Ikalgo hadn’t even deigned him worthy of a bail-out text.</p><p>But goddamn it if Killua hadn’t spent two whole-ass hours in front of that mirror making sure he didn’t look like crap (or worse, like he was trying to look good) for nothing.</p><p>Plus, it shouldn’t be too mortifying. All he had to do was go in, find the guy, and when he saw Freecss’s stupid cute face he’d just figure the rest out. </p><p>Right? Right.</p><p>But as Killua glanced back up to the mass of sweaty, gross dudes, he couldn’t help but feel a bit nauseous. And . . . confused. He ventured further into the venue, peeking around and dodging conversation-starters. But from wall to wall . . . it was just a sea of men.</p><p>Which is the precise moment that a shirtless guy in hefty overalls tipped his fireman hat at him and said, “Evening, handsome.”</p><p>Killua wheezed.</p><p><em> No. </em> There had to be girls in here somewhere. Killua shook his head, as if a second helping of whiplash would subtract the amount of toned chests and add some boobs to the general area.</p><p>It didn’t.</p><p>But that didn’t mean that there weren't girls anywhere! Killua nodded resolutely, absolutely positive that Gon Freecss did not invite him out to a gay club, because nobody in the universe could have that level of guts.</p><p>He slapped his card down on the counter, and the bartender only paused for a moment to raise his eyebrows at the sleek black card.</p><p>“Tab for Zoldyck,” he said in the sturdiest voice he could muster.</p><p>“Sure thing, what can I do ya for?” the bartender asked, casually flexing as he leaned against the counter.</p><p>Killua cleared his voice and started, “I’ll have a . . . bourbon?—wait, no. I won’t.” If he was gonna do this, he was going to do it his way. Which meant: “How much chocolate syrup do you have?” </p><p>The man blinked as if he’d heard wrong. “Come again?”</p><p>Killua leaned his elbows onto the counter and enunciated clearly, “How much. Chocolate syrup. Do you have?”</p><p>“Uh . . . I’ve got a bottle but we never really use it,” the fireman-tender replied slowly. </p><p>“Okay, so here’s what I need you to do. Grab that bottle of vodka off the top shelf there, yeah? Yeah, that one. Now, pour it into that massive glass over there . . . Yes, I know that’s a pitcher. Okay, so now take that bottle of syrup and just <em> dump it all in </em>.”</p><p>A half-minute later, he passed Killua the sugar-infused mixture with a look of absolute alarm. </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro: </b>Hey man, sorry I couldn’t make it tonight 😔</p>
  <p><b>Ikal-bro:</b> But are you free at all this week?? I kinda need to talk to you about something . . .</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Killua scoffed and in lieu of responding, chugged ⅓ of the pitcher.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Shot! Shot! Shot! Shot!” Zushi and Knuckle slammed their fists onto the bar as Gon downed three of the drinks that manifested themselves in front of him (courtesy of his plentiful fans).</p><p>Kurapika laughed into his hand, then joined in with a vicious, “Now three more, I’m not about to send momma Mito snapchats of a quitter!”</p><p>Gon looked to Kurapika with a surge of fake affront, fully prepared to chug everything behind the bar.</p><p>As a harbinger of chaos, Kurapika then turned to the other two guys with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Wanna hear the story of Gon’s first attempt at ghosting on Plenty of Fish?”</p><p>“P-plenty of fish?” Zushi stuttered. “Of all the dating apps, Plenty of Fish?”</p><p>Kurapika nodded while Gon flared red, “Mans loves his fish.”</p><p>Gon’s shot glass clattered to the table as he tugged Kurapika closer in an attempt to cover his mouth. “There’s a code against this kind of thing!”</p><p> Kurapika easily disentangled himself and hustled over to Knuckle and Zushi. “I agreed to no such code.”</p><p>“It’s only against code if a bro tells a non-bro embarrassing stories,” Knuckle added knowledgeably, much to Gon’s dismay. “Seeing as we’re all pals now, he can spill in good conscience.”</p><p>“Thank you, Finger—” </p><p>“Knuckle.”</p><p>“Yes, that’s what I said,” Kurapika nodded. “So last year I downloaded a dating app on Gon’s phone because he was getting, like, ridiculously cranky so I thought it was time to release him into the pit of hormones that is online dating.”</p><p>The guys nodded as if yes, that was the wisest thing to do in such a scenario, and Gon leapt for Kurapika again.</p><p>“So he swipes on <em> everyone </em> because he ‘didn’t know they couldn’t see if you swiped no on them, and didn’t want to hurt their feelings.’”</p><p>Zushi snorted, “Gon!”</p><p>“Whale Island didn’t have internet until 2017! I was still trying to figure out fruit ninja,” he wailed in defense. </p><p>Kurapika continued, “So this one guy is super trying to get into the DMs, like he’s putting in <em> work </em>, right? And—oh my god, stop it Gon, you know I’m as strong as you, keep your hands to yourself—so he panics and closes the app . . .”</p><p>“A classic move, the panic-and-close,” Zushi affirmed. “Whas’ the surprising part?”</p><p>Kurapika continued, “Well, first off, he closed it for two years.”</p><p>Gon covered his face with his hands in anticipation.  </p><p>“Not on purpose, but because he got distracted and forgot to open it again. And—<em> Gon </em>, I will literally kick you in the eyebrow—he opens it and realizes what happened. And the wuss feels terrible, right?”</p><p>The guys nodded some more, sipping at their drinks, while Gon had slumped against the counter groaning.</p><p>“But instead of just re-deleting the app in shame like anyone else would have, or blocking him like I would have . . .” Kurapika pulled up a screenshot on his phone.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><b>Gon F:</b> sry I was in the shower</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>The gang fell silent.</p><p>“It felt right!” came a muffled cry from the slumped pile of Gon.</p><p>“There’s no way he responded,” Knuckle blinked.</p><p>“Oh he fucking responded immediately: <em> YOU WERE IN THE SHOWER FOR TWO YEARS? </em> And,” Kurapika stopped for effect, “because Gon has a cinderblock where his instincts should be, he says ‘ <em> Yea my fingers are super pruny </em>.’”</p><p>Everyone took a moment to look at Gon with indecipherable expressions.</p><p>“I was trying to gross him out so he’d go away!” Gon groaned.</p><p>“He was already gone!” Zushi howled.</p><p>Kurapika raised his glass and lamented, “On this night, I’m sure we can all attest that in the arena of romance and common sense, Gon chokes. And not in the good way.”</p><p>Zushi screeched and Gon spit out his drink onto a guy who immediately looked like he wanted to thank him for it. </p><p>“At least you’re all getting along,” Gon resigned with a smile. And in an attempt to cope with his personal peanut gallery, he effectively downed those three extra shots Kurapika had challenged.</p><p>Zushi pointed at the empty glasses and expressed, “You’re gonna be<em> so drunk. </em>Where do these drinks even keep coming from?” He peek-squinted around the raucous room.</p><p>“You realize this guy has the alcohol tolerance of a water buffalo,” Kurapika provided.</p><p> “Wait what?” Zushi questioned, looking 5% more sober for a second. “So how much does he have to drink to actually get drunk?”</p><p>Kurapika shrugged, “Three liters? Give or take.”</p><p>Zushi and Knuckle gaped at the blonde’s nonplussed face, and then at a sheepish Gon who, yes, was already on his eighth shot and yes, was not drunk at all. They then looked to each other and in a moment of telepathy realized they’d have to do something a little more out of the box. </p><p>They still had their own mission after all.</p><p>“We will be right back,” Zushi said in his subtlest tone, grabbing Knuckle’s giant arm and tugging him into the crowd.</p><p>The duo wound through the obstacle course of rowdy clubbers and located a bachelor party that was casually ogling their puppy-eyed hunter friend.</p><p>Knuckle, a terrible liar but doing his best, managed, “Hey guys, so my friend over there? Yeah, the tall, lean, and muscley one. Famous hero, Gon Freecss. You see, he just got dumped and is in dire need of some drunken cheer. Think you can help him out?”</p><p>“He takes his clothes off when he’s drunk,” Zushi added helpfully. </p><p>Knuckle, who usually would have elbowed Zushi for such a statement, nodded matter-of-factly.</p><p>The drink flow to Gon’s corner of the bar was wildly active within minutes.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Killua also had the pleasure of a wickedly high alcohol tolerance, which meant he’d emptied two pitchers of his new favorite drink—as well as half the leftover alcoholic Halloween candy—before he was effectively tipsy.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><b>Killu:</b> What the fuck could you possibly want to talk about.</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Radio silence from Ikalgo and no sign of the dorks. At this point of the night he was really, really regretting dodging Freecss’s persistent attempts to exchange contact info.</p><p>Wait.</p><p>That other kid had texted him.</p><p>Killua fumbled his phone back out from his pocket, then watched it fall to the floor where it was promptly crushed beneath the combat boot of a rogue fireman. Hands still open, he blinked at his only means of contact with the world. </p><p>“Fuck,” he cursed and turned back to the bar, huffing hair from his eyes.</p><p>He looked back to the floor and ran a hand down his face. “<em> Fuck </em>.”</p><p>His palpable distress caught the eyebrow of a blonde who pointed at the metal remains and asked, “Were you planning on using that?”</p><p>Killua was unamused. “Nah, was looking to get smashed and stranded, all part of my intricate plan.”</p><p>“Of course,” the blonde smiled slightly, reddish eyes fading to pure blue in a way that was utterly disorienting. They then flashed to the pitcher’s last drops. “What’s the brown muck?”</p><p>“Chocolate and vodka,” Killua proclaimed with tipsy smugness. “And yours?”</p><p>“Shirley temple,” he answered simply. “I need to be sober when my friend goes nuclear.” </p><p>Killua peered over the man’s shoulder only to see three empty chairs. “Does ‘nuclear’ usually start with bailing on you?”</p><p>The freaky red/blue eyes widened as he turned to scan the empty corner that confirmed his friend was indeed no longer with them. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit. HEY, CHUMP DUO!” The smooth coolness of the guy evaporated into wild dangerousness as he pointed right at none other than—Knuckle and Zushi?</p><p>“Y-yes!” Zushi squeaked.</p><p>“Where in the absolute fuck is Gon?”</p><p>“He just went to the bathroom, don’t worry!” Zushi assured, waving his hands and hopping out of someone’s way.</p><p>“Why, is he not allowed to do his thing, go a little rogue?” Knuckle queried jokingly as he shifted back onto his barstool.</p><p>“The last time I took my eyes off of him at a bar he was dancing on a stage and <em> dislodging a stripper pole from the ground </em> so no, he is more certainly not <em> ever </em> allowed to ‘do his thing’.”</p><p>Killua stepped out from behind Kurapika and his voice cracked over the crowd, “Freecss did <em> what </em>?”</p><p>Kurapika blinked at the kid until realization dawned. </p><p>“Mr. Zoldyck!” Zushi dropped his drink (which luckily fell into Knuckle’s fast hands).</p><p>“Hey boss, uh, have you been right there the whole time?” Knuckle asked awkwardly.</p><p>“Okay, cool yay we’re all reunited,” Kurapika interrupted quickly, “now it’s time for you guys to fan out and locate the extremely strong and reckless hunter who you thought it was wise to <em> intoxicate and then immediately lose track of </em>.”</p><p>“He—he’s very fast,” Zushi said weakly.</p><p>“I’ll swing around to the bathroom, and Zush can ask the bachelor party if they’ve seen him,” Knuckle offered. </p><p>Killua added, “I have no idea where we even are, but I guess I’ll just—” he paused to scan the room, “go left?”</p><p>Kurapika nodded. “Why not, go at it. I’ll stay here in case he comes back, because somebody needs to have energy saved up for the press.”</p><p>“The press,” Killua repeated. He was going to say something along the lines of ‘Freecss can’t be that bad’ but a dislodged stripper pole scenario flew through his mind that said otherwise.</p><p>“Unless you think they wouldn’t be interested in their favorite hero out and wasted at a gay bar?” Kurapika asked, tossing a burner phone at him. “It’s an extra. My number’s in it under K. Don’t get lost, Gon’ll throw a fit.”</p><p>Killua hoped his flush was drowned out by the wild lights, as the idea of Gon worrying about him was apparently enough to make his heart riot. “Got it.” </p><p>He was halfway across the room when he realized that he didn’t know that person’s name, and that he’d basically affirmed where Killua had been invited.</p><p>This guy was either confident, clueless, or an obscure mixture of both that was sure to absolutely ruin him.</p><p>But as Killua weaved through the crowd, he couldn’t help but smile.</p><p>“Gon Freecss, you shameless bastard.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Meanwhile across the club, Gon Freecss was—as expected—engaging in shameless bastard activities. </p><p>It didn’t start out that way. He’d just swung away from his friends with a “BRB” to hit the bathroom, as anyone who’d just chugged his weight in liquor would. And he was whistling his way into the stall, minding his own business when he felt a prickling, hair-raising aura approach the main bathroom door.</p><p>Not a particularly powerful one, since powerful Nen users actually knew how to hide their lethal intentions.</p><p>But he clamped his mouth shut and hopped up on the toilet just in case.</p><p>Four feet. Leather shoes. </p><p>They stopped in front of each stall.</p><p>Then, a gruff whisper: “All right, how fuckin’ hard can it be to find this kid?” </p><p>“I—I don’t know, I checked all the bars!” the second voice squeaked back.</p><p>“You were flirting with a fireman.”</p><p>“I was being thorough? For all we know, he coulda been one of the firemen.” </p><p>“You really think the CEO of Godspeed Games is out there half-naked and dressed as a fireman right now? Are you fucking kidding me, Meleo?”</p><p>Now that caught Gon’s attention. He leaned forward, feet pushing off from the toilet as he pressed his hands and ears to the door.</p><p>They were looking for Killua?</p><p>“Okay, thank fucking God, Cheetu just texted me. The kid swung by the stages toward the left of the building.”</p><p>“Oh good, because we had no idea what we were doing,” the second man sighed in relief.</p><p>“<em> You </em> have no idea what you’re doing.”</p><p>“Not true! . . . But seriously, what’s the next move?”</p><p>There was a pause where he could only assume the first man was glaring. “What it always is. We wait for backup to make our move so the bastard doesn’t slip through our fingers.”</p><p>Gon caught his rage on his tongue. </p><p>Instead of kicking down the stall door and then subsequently kicking both their asses (because it would likely alert the rest of their group when they got no texts back), he forced his fury to sink into the pit of his stomach like fire.</p><p>They wanted to hurt Killua.</p><p>Which meant, wait—<em> Killua came </em>. Gon’s heart did a total 360; his face lit up and his cheeks puffed out, straining to keep himself from making any giddy or victorious movements. Seeing as falling flat on his face would likely give himself away.</p><p>As the footsteps retreated, Gon became familiar with their Nen auras for future reference.</p><p>Then he <em> sprinted </em> into the crowd.</p><p>Because Killua was here. Sure Killua was in danger, but he was <em> here </em>which meant—after he demolished those thugs to dust—they could hang out!</p><p>In that precise moment, Gon Freecss decided he might not hate clubbing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hey guys, I'm back and thriving! fell into a quick depresso pit for a minute there, but everything's okay because killugon. &lt;3</p><p>please do lemme know what you think! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. adrenaline</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“What do you want from me, Freecss?”</p><p>Gon knew there wasn’t time.</p><p>The voices outside grew in volume, there was a legitimate mini-bath forming, and there wasn’t <i>time</i>, but Gon was looking into the frantic eyes of his favorite person in the world, realizing that he had no idea he was Gon’s favorite person in the world.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the bop: <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/5GhJIMWAw0uMLgkdbt6uMz?si=cca93d18b05f4830">fallin' (adrenaline) - why don't we</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>T</b>he room spun and swayed around Killua. Vibrant colors erupted like a minefield at his feet, the patches of darkness between more sinister than he’d remembered. His social anxiety was probably just setting off. But even so, he couldn’t quiet the unsettling urge to keep moving, to not stay in one place too long.</p><p>He lifted his head to scan the area for any vaguely Gon-shaped individuals, but only found a horizon of discombobulated faces and flailing dance moves.</p><p>Ugh. </p><p>Killua reached the center of the room and a warm weight dragged over his shoulders, passing like a shiver, halting him. </p><p>But within moments dancing bodies were bumping him forward, so he decided to shrug it off. This night was already going incredibly wrong, he didn’t need paranoia to top it off. </p><p>He was just drunk, frustrated, and maybe he missed the stupidly handsome hero a little bit. And maybe he wanted to see him at least once tonight before he KO’d in an Uber.</p><p>It wasn’t too much to ask the universe after all his efforts.</p><p>But as he lost his footing over someone <em> else’s </em> shoelace . . . Killua realized he should probably call it a night.</p><p>“Where the fuck are you, Freecss?” he murmured.</p><p>Just then, as if on cue, auburn eyes flashed from across the room. Pink lips mouthed “Killua?” and his heart leapt to his throat, forehead damp as they locked gazes. </p><p>Time was slow and fast, sharp and blurred all at once as Gon lunged through the crowd.</p><p>Suddenly Killua’s intoxication felt less like a nuisance, and rather something far more thrilling. His heart swelled in his chest, the bass short-circuiting in his veins as Gon got closer.</p><p>For the first time in his recorded existence . . . he kind of wanted to dance.</p><p>It was ridiculous. He’d always been content with the quiet, the expected, the glow of computer screens. But now all he could see was Gon Freecss under blinding lights and a world of possibilities.</p><p>. . . He <em> was </em> running toward him kind of fast though.</p><p>Gon’s arms lifted and Killua prepared for any number of ways the man could say hello. But instead of a quirky intro, grabbing his hand to pull him to the dance floor, or even a single word—</p><p>Gon body-slammed him into the ground. </p><p>Yup. That tracked.</p><p>“Hey Killua, put this on!” The hero tugged a baseball cap snugly over his head, grinning down at him like a puppy who’d seen his owner for the first time in weeks, loosely combed-back hair rebelling and falling into thick eyelashes. </p><p>Killua stared up at him in utter disbelief as the crowd dispersed around them. Heat fluttered up his neck and across his cheeks.</p><p>“This is the part where I ask you where the fuck you’ve been, and what the fuck you’re doing?” Killua breathed.</p><p>“Looking for you, and about to start a bar fight. How’s your night been?” Gon asked casually, eyes twinkling.</p><p>“Trashed my phone and ate my weight in alcoholic candy,” Killua responded automatically. Then blinked up at him, then rubbed his eyes for a reality check. Then, “Wait <em> what?” </em></p><p>Gon’s grin twisted as he responded, “Okay, so I’d love to talk more and explain a ton of stuff but basically there’s been a, uh, quick change of plans and I need you to listen to me super carefully.”</p><p>“Like, something is happening,” Killua clarified.</p><p>“Yup,” Gon affirmed with a big nod.</p><p>“Right now, here in the gay club you invited me to.”</p><p>Gon made an embarrassed little squinty face that made his heart lurch. Voice dipped in innocent desperation, he responded, “Yeah, so, about that, I swear I had <em> no idea </em> so please don’t hate me or fire me?”</p><p>Killua couldn’t hold back the laugh that burst from his lips, and Gon’s cheeks tinted above him. </p><p>“Are you—are you <em> laughing at me </em> right now, Killua?” Gon gaped, flabbergasted.</p><p>“It’s just,” he wheezed, “so you, to confidently invite me somewhere without even like, Googling it first.”</p><p>“I did google it!” Gon exasperated, face still a little red as he pulled Killua up to a sitting position. “They said it defied expectations and was great for a night out with the guys—or was it gays.” Gon paused, sucking in a big breath through his nose and peeking up at the ceiling, as if wracking his mind for images. “Okay it might have been gays, but it felt like a typo in the moment, I swear.”</p><p>Killua tried not to laugh any harder, tried not to let the power go to his head as his eyes teared and Gon flushed, stumbling over his words.</p><p>“Knuckle chose the place,” Gon insisted with begging eyes. “He lured us in with free admission.”</p><p>“You’d get free admission walking into anywhere at any time, dork, you’re famous,” Killua pointed out. “But hang on a sec, you said something’s happening?” he queried, wiping a stray tear from his eye.</p><p>“Oh, yeah!” Gon’s cheeks calmed and he regrouped with a big, confident assurance: “Almost forgot. We should get going!” </p><p>Killua blinked as Gon tugged a leather jacket from around his waist. “Going where to do what<em> ?” </em></p><p>He draped it over the CEO’s shoulders and pulled a hush-hush finger to his lips. “More later. For now, discretion.”</p><p>“Ah yes, discretion. Like when you full-body tackled me in the middle of a club full of people?” Killua countered, quirking his head. The room shifted with it.</p><p>“. . . I might have gotten a little carried away.” Gon’s chest rose and he unleashed a big grin. “But I was starting to think I’d never find you! Then all of a sudden there you were, and I knocked over a lot of people to get to you, and my hi got a teeny bit amplified along the way.”</p><p>Killua snorted. “Uhuh, yeah, I gathered that. The bruise on my ass gathered that too.”</p><p>The hero’s smile remained wide and impossibly cute. “But you don’t look mad?” </p><p>“Nah. Lucky for you, I’m one pitcher too deep to experience human anger,” Killua sighed over his shoulder, blowing bangs from his still-damp forehead.</p><p>“One <em> pitcher?” </em> Gon’s face fell, hand shooting out to cup Killua’s cheek as if expecting a near-death temperature. Blue eyes flashed to him upon contact, startled. </p><p>“Killua, can you see my finger? I’m gonna wave it around, that’s what the doctor always did when I got a concussion.”</p><p>Killua shoved him hard as his voice cracked, “That’s <em> not </em> how you check temperature, and being drunk is completely different from a concussion!”</p><p>The man’s laugh was music to his ears as he fell backward, hands flat against the dirty club floor as if there was nowhere else to be. </p><p>Gon’s head tilted amorously.</p><p>“I dunno, looking at you is making me feel a little concussed.”</p><p>Killua’s face flattened. “You’re saying that like it’s a compliment, but the words aren’t following.”</p><p>The hero laughed more and leaned forward, elaborating, “I’m saying you look really pretty, Killua.” </p><p>Just like that, as if he were talking about weather or what he had for lunch. All the nerves in his cheek buzzed where Gon’s hand had been.</p><p><em> “Embarrassing” </em> was the only word he could hiss out. He shook his head to expel the heat from his cheeks. “Who even says shit like that?”</p><p>“Well, you are,” shrugged Gon, who then hopped to his shameless feet and held out a shameless hand. “We should get moving though! You stand out like, a lot, even with the hat.”</p><p>“Okay I changed my mind, I’m firing you.”</p><p>Gon laughed, “Come on, up up, Killua. We have a long week of work ahead of us!”</p><p><em> “Fired,” </em> Killua repeated, but he took Gon’s hand anyway with a sharp-toothed grin.</p><p>Before Gon could say anything else, a familiar blonde barged over wearing a look of pure murder. “I could see you two from halfway across the room, are you <em> trying </em>to get this little alcoholic kidnapped?” he snapped at Gon.</p><p>“Wait, kidnapped?” Killua asked loudly, emotional high extinguished.</p><p>“Alcoholic?” Gon asked at the same time.</p><p>As Kurapika rolled his eyes, the most recent threat Killua had received this week leapt to the front of his brain: <em> I’m not here to exchange snarky banter. This is your final warning. </em> </p><p>Final warning.</p><p>And like a genius, he went out to a club. Shit.</p><p>“You,” Kurapika pointed, “You don’t look surprised. Cough it up.”</p><p>Gon waved his hands, inching between the two. “Killua really shouldn’t be coughing up anything right now, Kurapika,” he leaned in and attempted to continue quietly, “he measures his drinks by the pitcher.”</p><p>“Yeah I was there to witness the utter abuse of chocolate syrup, Gon, you’re behind.”</p><p>“Chocolate syrup?” Gon blinked. “They have that here?”</p><p>“Of course they do, it’s a goddamn delicacy,” Killua asserted. “Plus—” </p><p>Kurapika whipped out a lethal finger and interrupted, “Silence while I try to keep you alive. I need you,” he nodded to Gon, “to go muscle through the shitheads I marked with my Nen while you two children were giggling on the dirty floor, completely unconcerned about herpes. And you,” he turned to Killua, “are coming with me.”</p><p>“Can’t Killua stay with me though?” Gon asked, face damp with confusion and a little pout.</p><p>“Can you take down an unknown quantity of thugs while simultaneously keeping him un-kidnapped? While intoxicated?” Kurapika shot back.</p><p>“Easy,” Gon responded immediately.</p><p>“I can keep myself un-kidnapped, thanks,” Killua supplemented at the same time, un-crossing his arms. Ironically, that small shift of weight threw off his balance and left him staggering into the closest object. </p><p>Gon. Gon was the closest object.</p><p>His new center of gravity vibrated with laughter, hands steadying him at the waist (mortifying him) as he complied, “Okay maybe <em> just </em>for now you should go with Kurapika.”</p><p>Killua jumped forward like the guy had burst into flames. “Cool cool cool, so I’ll just—go somewhere with this stranger then.” He flapped a hand for the eyebrows-raised-mighty-high and ever-so-amused Kurapika to follow him in a random direction.</p><p>“I’ll be done soon, don’t worry, Killua!” Gon called out after him, grinning. “You’re totally safe.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Are we going to die?” Zushi squeaked, huddled next to Knuckle behind the bar with at least 5 half-naked firefighters.</p><p>Everything had been fine and dandy, just a casual group of pals hunting down their other super buff and reckless pal . . . until they found him.</p><p>Just as he was swinging a powerful arm into a small, bug-eyed man’s face.</p><p>More men showed up as the crowd scattered, piling on top of each other at the exits, which left Zushi, Knuckle and a handful of employees packed behind the bar like a row of sardines, peeking over the top of the counter to stay in the loop.</p><p>“Nah, the bouncers are here, they’ll handle it,” Knuckle assured his buddy, weakly motioning towards the two men who . . . Gon dodged and shoved just hard enough to redirect them toward the actual bad guys.</p><p>. . . Who then sent the bouncers flying across the room.</p><p>“No I don’t think they will, Knuck, I don’t think they will,” Zushi wheezed.</p><p>“I mean, we shouldn’t be out there too, right?” Knuckle asked, glancing down at his muscles as if to contemplate their usefulness in actual combat.</p><p>Gon twisted his body to fling himself foot-first into a guy with cheetah-spot face tattoos.</p><p>“Don’t you dare, our hands are our livelihood,” Zushi responded. He looked fondly down at his digits, “And one day, I will hold a pretty girl’s hands with these unbroken fingers.”</p><p>Knuckle squinted. “Did you down those leftover shots on the counter while I wasn’t looking?”</p><p>“No? That would’ve been . . . unsanitary,” Zushi coughed over his shoulder, rolling some empty shot glasses away and into the dance floor (where they eventually tripped one of the bouncers trying to get back up).</p><p>“Zero percent subtle, Zush, but I respect the hustle. New question: should we be recording this?” Knuckle asked as Gon swept one guy’s feet and used the momentum to kick another guy in the face with the same leg. “For fighting scene references?”</p><p>One of the guys with giant, floofy lion hair taunted Gon for the umpteenth time, but this time used the billion-dollar word: “Zoldyck.” They gulped as their friend’s puppy-dog face went positively feral and the lion dude’s body joined the bouncers across the room.</p><p>“Uh, no, no I think we can just—remember. Forever. As a result of trauma,” Zushi responded, eyes glued to the scene.</p><p>“Right, yeah, okay. Good call,” Knuckle nodded. And continued nodding, also not looking away. </p><p>A few minutes later: “Is that guy dead?” Zushi heaved, pointing at the guy Gon had kicked in the face before. “Do you see him moving?”</p><p>“I think his finger just twitched.”</p><p>The buzz-cut game designer found himself wondering why he trashed his inhaler in the 8th grade as he wheezed, “How can you even see that from here?”</p><p>“I dunno dude,” Knuckle sweated, throwing an arm out, “he just looks like a guy whose finger is twitching.”</p><p>“Yeah I think I saw it too,” one of the firefighters added, raising his hand.</p><p>Knuckle motioned to the guy as if to say<em> see? </em></p><p>“Okay so he’s like, 45% probably alive then,” Zushi compromised.</p><p>“Fair assessment, bro.”</p><p>Gon kicked the finger-twitch guy to the side, preventing another thug from tripping over him.</p><p>“God he’s so considerate,” Zushi sighed. “Even when fighting.”</p><p>“. . . No, I’m pretty sure he just needed more floor space to throw that other guy <em> into </em> the twitching guy with enough force to send them both across the room like a giant two-man bowling ball.”</p><p>“Gon did say he always wanted to try bowling,” Zushi nodded.</p><p>“Don’t worry, he likes fishing more,” Knuckle comforted his friend with a hearty pat on the shoulder.</p><p>“That . . . stresses me out too but slightly less, so I’ll take it.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Killua said flatly, muffled from behind the door of his current luxury locale (aka the handicap bathroom stall Kurapika had corralled him into). “<em> This </em> is the plan?”</p><p>“It functions as both a hiding spot and a way to keep puke off my shoes. Win-win,” the blonde called out from where he was leaning against the tile wall, tapping away at his phone.</p><p>“I have a knife, you know,” Killua threatened. He shook the locked door one more time for measure.</p><p>“Yeah, and the fighting stance of a toddler with low blood pressure.”</p><p>Killua huffed, “My blood pressure is through the <em> roof </em> thanks. But seriously, let me out.”</p><p>A soft yet sarcastic laugh sounded. “Great argument, but no. Keep all that diabetes energy in there for now.”</p><p>“Ugh, you suck. This whole night sucks. I can’t even think straight,” Killua mumbled, moving toward the toilet. </p><p>“Yeah you certainly can’t,” Kurapika said with a wicked pause, “judging by the way you were staring at Gon’s ass.”</p><p>Killua’s cheeks lit up as he whirled around and slammed his body against the door once more. “I didn’t—! Let me out of here so I can strangle you.” </p><p>“You realize I’m here to help you, you rat.”</p><p>“How is this helping? We’ve literally—” pause for a hiccup and angry waving arms, “cornered ourselves in here. Isn’t that more fucking dangerous?”</p><p> Kurapika continued texting, but answered, “For them, yes. I happen to work faster when cornered.”</p><p>“I don’t think hand-to-hand combat falls beneath the same category of ‘working better under pressure,’” Killua pressed.</p><p>Instead of a retort, Kurapika hissed a quick <em> “fuck” </em> under his breath, blood red eyes flashing to him through the crack in the door. “And <em> I </em> don’t think coming out tonight in a crowded, public, dark venue was the best idea given you’ve been receiving threats for <em> weeks now.” </em></p><p>Killua blanched. “How’d you know that?”</p><p>The blonde waggled his phone and said, “Latest tea from my side-gig. Which means this is way fucking worse than I thought, and I’ve got to get out there to blow the whistle on this shitshow and somehow <em> not </em> blow my own cover with my coworkers.”</p><p>“And I’m guessing you’re not going to expand on any of that or let me out of here?”</p><p>“Astute for your level of wasted,” Kurapika nodded, dropping his burner phone into the sink and flipping the tap on. “Don’t move. Don’t breathe more than necessary. I’m having my partner play a hallucinogenic flute song through the vents so anyone walking in will see a beautiful meadow instead of your drunk ass.”</p><p>“A <em> what </em> song?” Killua demanded.</p><p>“Already breathing too much,” Kurapika noted as the door swung shut and crunching metal signaled the untimely death of the bathroom door handle.</p><p>“Fuck,” Killua hissed and kicked the door. His back thudded against the wall, sneakers squeaking until his butt met the cold floor.</p><p>He could have been home, comfy, feet jammed into a mechanical massager, blissfully buried in comics and snacks and anime . . . but <em> instead </em> Killua was locked in a bathroom, shitfaced with his feet jammed up against a toilet while a ruthless blonde stranger and his crush from work fended for his life out on the neon stages of a themed gay bar.</p><p>He stared at his stupid sneakers and listened to the sinkwater.</p><p>This was it, this was his night now.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When Kurapika tackled the cheetah-tattoo guy off the stage, chains bunched around his fists, the first words that flew from Gon’s lips were: “Where’s Killua?”</p><p>“In a—fuck, one sec,” Kurapika grunted as a fist met his shoulder, to which he kneed the guy in the gut and restarted, “He’s in a big, big meadow with excellent elevator music.”</p><p>“You still talk to Melody?” Gon queried, managing wide-eyed curiosity while dodging a high kick.</p><p>“Of course I do, they’re integral to my inside jobs,” Kurapika huffed. He moved nimbly through attacks and defenses. “Why so surprised?”</p><p>“Oh, cool!” Gon exclaimed. “And I dunno, you just never mentioned it before.”</p><p>“You never asked,” the blonde shrugged. </p><p>“Are you idiots really so useless that they can have a casual fucking conversation while kicking your asses?” The lion man roared, having resurrected himself from Gon’s initial attack. “Do I have to do everything myself?”</p><p>The hulking figure made his way to an unamused Kurapika, who, with the flick of a wrist, wrapped his chains around the man and dragged him just close enough to hiss in his face, “The contract’s off.” The chains released and left him on his ass, dumbfounded. “Tell your boss.”</p><p>Gon connected the dots fairly quickly, then decided to utilize this opportune moment where most of the thugs were either knocked out or terrified by his friend’s lethal energy . . . to sneak away to the bathroom.</p><p>He could only imagine how utterly done with him Killua was. He was probably regretting accepting Gon’s invite, convinced to never contact him outside of work ever again. Maybe even regretting hiring him. Meeting him. Breathing in his general direction.</p><p>Why couldn’t Kurapika have chosen a hiding spot with a little more dignity? Like . . . the vents? Coat check? Behind Knuckle and Zushi?</p><p>Gon sighed, reaching for the bathroom doorknob only to realize it was a crumple of jagged metal.</p><p><em> After </em> it had effectively sliced open his palm.</p><p>He hissed, biting down on his arm as to not draw any attention to himself. Luckily the lights were dimmed; the only remaining color bounced and illuminated around the center stages, far from the tiny bathroom hallway.</p><p>“Killua?” he rasped painfully.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p><em> “Killua,” </em> he tried again, more strained this time.</p><p>Still nothing.</p><p>Which was when made the executive decision to clutch his drenched hand to his chest, wind up a Nen-infused leg and smash the door in. A low yelp sounded from the corner of the room and Gon limped inside.</p><p>“Are you here, Kill—”</p><p>He was slapped across the face with a scene of absolute tranquility, luscious garden fields and whistling wind, but Gon only had about five seconds to savor it before a blur leap-tackled him into a hard wall.</p><p>The illusion was shattered back into a dinky little club bathroom, sharp ocean eyes pinning him where he stood.</p><p>Then the eyes blinked a lot. “Freecss? Shit, you scared the shit outta me,” Killua rambled, “aren’t you too busy like, kicking people’s asses to come hang out with me in my—new apartment, apparently? From the amount of fuckin’ time I’ve spent in here.” He motioned out around him as if showing off his new digs.</p><p>But Gon could taste the sarcasm, feel the exasperation in Killua’s movements, the waves of anxiety crashing beneath the surface.</p><p>He took a step closer and started, “It’s being taken care of, I promise. I’m here to get you home.”</p><p>“What’s going on out there? Kurapika knows these people?” Killua questioned, wavering ever so slightly on his feet. Gon reached a hand out to steady him but it met thin air as the CEO backed away.</p><p>“It’s . . . a long story, and kinda confusing to explain, especially since I’m still all foggy from the drinks, but basically I <em> really </em>need to get you out of here. We’ll have plenty of time later to—”</p><p>“No. <em> No. </em> Make time now,” Killua asserted, voice hard, maybe a little scared. “How does he know these guys?”</p><p>Drips sounded from across the room, drawing Gon’s eyes to a sink that was strangely filled to the brim. No. No distractions.</p><p>“Killua, please, we really really have to go. There’s more guys that are gonna show up super soon and I don’t want you to get hurt.”</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the <em> fuck </em> is going on.” Gon couldn’t help but feel a little helpless as Killua continued, “You think you get to—to just tackle me, drag me places, lock me in bathroom stalls, have a best friend who works for my blackmailer, and not tell me a single damn thing about what’s happening? All night? Dude, I’m a fucking adult. You can’t just toss me around like a friggin’ Victorian widow. I’ve had <em> enough </em>, I don’t need to be manhandled to survive a night out!”</p><p>The leaking was getting worse, water gliding down the side of the sink in rivulets. The voices outside were picking up, gathering closer.</p><p>“That’s a lotta questions at once, Killua,” Gon exasperated.</p><p>“Start with this one. How does he know them?” Killua asked again, lowly.</p><p>“Work,” Gon spit out. It was quick, desperate. “Uh, undercover work, he does tons of undercover work and he’s taking care of this <em> right </em>now. He’s terminating the contract with whoever it is that’s after you. I had no idea anything was going to happen tonight or I never would have invited you, I swear. Now please, please let me get you out of here, Killua.”</p><p>He hoped that would suffice, begged the gods that that would suffice for now. Because the water was stretching around their shoes and seeping across the tile. And he probably only had minutes before backup arrived to scope the area.</p><p>Killua snapped, “Fine, but I’m not wearing this shit,” and flung his hat to the ground. “It’s the ugliest shade of blue I’ve ever seen in my life and reeks of bar peanuts.”</p><p>The pout on Killua’s face tugged a hesitant laugh from his lungs. “Sorry, Killua, next time I’m stealing a stranger’s hat I’ll be sure to pick a better shade.”</p><p>Killua kept up his glare, though Gon could tell he was softening. “Good.”</p><p>“Maybe I’ll ask them if it’s comfortable, get a quick review.”</p><p>“Oh my God,” Killua laugh-groaned, “I’m gonna lose it. I . . . I don’t even understand why I’m <em> here </em> .” He sucked in a breath. “I didn’t even know you weeks ago! But now you’re—you’re <em> everywhere </em> , all the time, talking about plantcare and breakfast and what I like to do when it rains—like, who even <em> asks </em> those kinds of questions?” </p><p>Gon blinked, feeling a little lost for words. He stepped forward as Killua backed away yet again, dunking his shoes back into the rising water. A destroyed flip phone plopped to the ground beside them.</p><p>“What do you want from me, Freecss?”</p><p>Gon knew there wasn’t time.</p><p>The voices outside grew in volume, there was a legitimate mini-bath forming, and there wasn’t <em> time </em>, but Gon was looking into the frantic eyes of his favorite person in the world, realizing that he had no idea he was Gon’s favorite person in the world.</p><p>“You’re here because I like you,” Gon expressed.</p><p>Killua’s jaw and fists went slack as the bathroom door was kicked off its hinges, signaling the entrance of particularly lethal auras.</p><p>Gon’s Nen vibrated in his arms and harnessed into his fists, prepared.</p><p>But Killua—who had no way of knowing Gon would be able to punch through the door that was midair and hurtling towards them—snagged fistfulls of Gon’s shirt and flung both of them backwards and into the backend of the room.</p><p>A gasp was ripped from Gon’s chest as his knees cracked against tile, and as much as he desperately tried to redirect the surge of power meant for the door, his palm landed on Killua’s chest. </p><p>A blast of aura ripped through the room.</p><p>It wasn’t Gon’s.</p><p>The hero was thrown onto his back, squinting into a blinding light that had enveloped the room. He traced the electric crackles of blue to their origin . . . where Killua was. Energy sparked and branched from the man’s lean body as he stumbled to his feet, gasping for air. Sharp blue eyes locked onto the thugs stepping hesitantly forward. </p><p>“Don’t,” Gon rasped, heaving his body up using the overflowing sink. His blood smeared the surface, tainting and swirling with the water.</p><p> “Grab him,” the cheetah guy nodded towards them.</p><p> Killua looked to his hands with awe as they sparked to life.</p><p>“Get on the sink,” he ordered Gon as firmly as he could without adequate air supply.</p><p>Gon opened his mouth to protest, but was powerless as Killua lunged forward and <em> slammed </em>his palm to the ground. </p><p>Electricity tore through the water, sending everyone to their knees. It revolted, sizzled, demolished every crevice of the tiny bathroom. And despite Gon’s clutch over the sink, despite his raised feet, he still winced beneath stray sparks.</p><p>In the aftermath, he found himself staring in absolute wonder at the vibrant, powerful figure before him. The currents of blue that drenched Killua’s body, sweeping through the soft white of his hair, lethal at his fingertips, glowing in his irises. </p><p>It was an image that would reap his dreams and live rent free in his psyche for the foreseeable future.</p><p>“Beautiful,” Gon whispered.</p><p>Then the light flickered out and Killua dropped like deadweight into the shallow water.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hey guys, I'm back to finish up club night^^ next chapter we'll be back at godspeed games office! pray for leorio who has no idea his boss is the equivalent of an unhinged outlet LOL.</p><p>thank you so much for all the comments, they make me endlessly happy! I hope you enjoyed the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>